Too Far from Heaven
by Svetlaena Quel'Ivan
Summary: Carolara Moorhart only wanted to get out of prison and run off to a place where her bad record couldn't catch her, but she finds herself unable to turn her back on the Empire when the Mythic Dawn seems poised to pull all Tamriel into a new age of darkness. *Story is complete! Keep an eye out for the sequel, "Fighting for a Brighter Dawn"!*
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Prisoner name, Carolara Moorhart. Breton, female, aged twenty-eight," An ebony-haired Imperial woman spoke nearly to herself, copying down information from one piece of parchment to another by meager candlelight, carrying out the Empire's bureaucracy. "No birth or census records. No known kin. Notices posted for arrest: High Rock and Hammerfell in the year Four Hundred and Twenty-Four... Skyrim in the year Four Hundred and Twenty-Five. Arrested in Mournhold by Tribunal Temple Ordinators for attempted thievery in the year Four Hundred and Twenty-Six... and handed over to the Imperial Legion upon discovery of the past notices."

The Breton in question fidgeted in place, testing the chain binding her wrist irons curiously, but stopping the moment she caught one of the men eyeing her. Being the only Breton in the room made her look and feel quite small, bringing up her bound hands to fuss with one of her copper braids.

"Reason for transfer?" The woman that had been rambling on before whilst filling out forms looked up at the guards, holding her quill just off the paper in preparation to write down the answer.

"Local instability," One of the men replied. "You should know that, Viccia."

Viccia clicked her tongue as she took down the words. "Yes, yes, and you should know I'm required to ask. Shame about Morrowind really. Place seems to get worse every year."

He shrugged. "What do you expect, bunch of crazy Daedra worshippers."

A little sigh from the bureaucrat. She blew the ink on the parchment dry and folded it up, her eyes then moving to the prisoner. "Well, unless Miss Moorhart would like to make a statement for the record I believe we're done here."

"More like a question," said Carolara, letting her hands drop and a smile cross her lips. "You at least serve real food here in Cyrodiil, right? I can't bear to eat another bug egg, they taste like horse sh- ah!" She was interrupted as the man holding her chains gave them a mighty tug, nearly causing her to fall to the ground. Once she got her balance back however she stayed quiet, taking the hint but snickering quietly to herself.

"I'm sorry about that, Viccia." The guard gave his prisoner a deathly glare. "But don't get this one talking. She's been nothing but sass all the way from Mournhold and it only stops when you gag her."

"Sass nothing. I was just trying to lighten the mood," the Breton grumbled low enough as to not be heard.

"That's quite alright," The unamused Viccia put her signature on the document and intertwined her fingers. "I don't expect decent manners from the criminal rabble that comes through here, I've had worse. Just take her down and drop her off in one of the empty cells and she'll be off your hands."

Minutes later Carolara was thrown onto the cold stone floor of her new cell, the guard locking it behind her and leaving without a word, glad to be rid of his burden. She got up to have a look around. The first thing she noticed was that it was twice as big as her cell in Mournhold, and the entire door was made of bars instead of just a small window near the top. This made it possible to look out and see the hallway between cells, and even see into the ones across from her.

As she gazed about, brown eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, the Dark Elf in the cell right across from her own was sizing her up. A smirk on his face he rose to his feet and came up to his own door, leaning against the bars to leer at her. "Pale skin, freckles, snotty expression. You're a Breton!"

"Yes," Carolara confirmed, interested in possible conversation but suspicious of his haughty tone. "What of it?"

"The masters of magicka, right? Hmph. You're nothing but a stuck-up harlot with cheap parlor tricks!" He laughed loud enough to echo.

"I'm not even a magick-" She shook her head, refusing to get roped into this. "Sure, right as you like." The Breton turned away from the bars and strode over to the little wooden table in her cell. She lifted the jug; it was heavy with water, and she could sure use some.

"Go ahead, try your magicka in here," the Dunmer just kept taunting her while she poured water into her cup. "Let's see you make those bars disappear." She just spared him a brief glare, but that was enough to keep him going. "No? What's the matter? Not so powerful now, are you Breton?"

"By the Nine, will you shut it!" Carolara finally hollered back, a couple of voices from further down the row answering in agreement.

He cackled, able to sense by her tone he was getting to her. "You're not leaving this prison 'til they throw your body in the lake. Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Breton! You're going to die!"

The clay cup went hurtling through the air, smashing into the bars of the elf's cell but still dousing him in the water it carried. Carolara realized all too late that it had been her only cup and winced, making a mental note to ask the guards very, very nicely for another in the morning. But for now, she had to rub it in a little, pulling on what little knowledge of Morrowind she'd gleamed during her stay in Mournhold and its prison. "You're just mad because your Province is a hell-hole, you silly Daedra-worshipping savage, now put a lid on it!"

The Dunmer was livid now and doubtlessly ready to give a scathing answer to that, raising a finger and opening his mouth. But suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs swung open so hard it struck the wall. "Quiet!" The jailor bellowed down into cells, "Or must I find hard labor for those who can't seem to sleep?"

The threat of hard labor was enough to silence both parties in the argument, retreating to their piles of hay to lie down. Carolara fell asleep a bit easier than she was used to, comforted somewhat by the presence of a window in her new cell and she was able to see a few stars as she drifted off.


	2. Pull Me Under

"Baurus, lock that door behind us!" called a woman's voice, and Carolara snapped awake. Torchlight shone from the stairway down into the prison and the Breton sat up groggily, picking pieces of hay from her bed out of her hair.

A few more words were spoken that she couldn't make out over the sound of the door being secured. Curious to a fault she got up and went to the bars, putting her face against them so she could see as much as possible.

"We don't know that, Sire." The owner of the voice that woke her finally came into view; small in stature, a Breton like she was. To her side came a dark-skinned Redguard, both clad in the same armor, of a make she'd not seen before. "The messenger only said they were attacked."

Coming to the foot of the stairs last was the man she was talking to, and Carolara's eyes widened in recognition. Old and dressed in lavish robes; the Emperor himself, Uriel Septim the Seventh. She'd only seen him in person from a distance and it had been a few years, of course, but there was no mistaking that dignified face and voice. "No," he was saying, his voice grave. "They're dead. I know it."

The armored Breton woman sighed. "My job right now is to get you to safety-" Her eyes met Carolara's and she looked quite angry, turning to look back up the stair. Down came one more man dressed like the other two, along with the Imperial jailor, fussing with his keys, and she pointed right at the latter. "What's this prisoner doing here?" She demanded.

"Well you see, Ma'am," Carolara smiled at her, "I got caught thieving."

"No one is supposed to be in this cell!" the woman shouted, completely ignoring her.

The jailor looked like a cornered deer, stammering, "Usual mix-up with the Watch, Captain Renault, sir. I-I..."

"Nevermind." The woman, apparently called Renault, shook her head. She glanced over her shoulder, a worried look on her face for only a fraction of a second before she was barking out another order. "Get that gate open." She frowned at Carolara. "Stand back, prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

Hands up, palms visible, Carolara began walking backwards, checking over her shoulder every so often as she went. "Right, best not get in your way then. Afraid I haven't had much time to tidy up the place for important company, though."

"Silence," The jailor was unlocking the bars now, eyeing her carefully. "Stand aside. Over by the window." The small Breton continued up until her back met the wall, still smiling the whole way, more than a little confused. The cell door came open and Renault strode in ahead of the rest, peering up through the window suspiciously and barely regarding the prisoner's curious gaze. The Captain nodded back to her men and then laid her hand upon one of the wall's smooth stones. A simple press revealed the hidden mechanism, and a large part of the wall slid open to reveal a door.

Carolara let out a low whistle, attracting the eyes of the gathered men. "Wish I'd known about that..." Renault flashed the jailor a glare at those words, hinting that he'd barely avoided serious trouble. The other men and the Emperor entered the cell as well, the jailor locking the bars behind them and retreating back up to his post. The Emperor was third to go through the door, just behind the Captain and one of the others, pausing when his gaze met Carolara's but only for a moment and she thought she saw him smile at her before he turned away.

"Sir, the door, it won't lock..." The Redguard, bringing up the rear, was stuck fussing with the door.

Renault called back, "No time. Keep moving."

He didn't seem pleased about it but he shrugged, glancing to Carolara. "Looks like today is your lucky day," his tone was slightly begrudging, but he seemed tense and anxious to catch up to his party. "Just stay out of our way."

"Don't worry," She smiled, slipping her skinny wrists right out of her irons with practiced ease. "I won't mess up my one shot. Oh, and good luck to you, too. Wherever it is you're going."

The Redguard replied grimly, already walking into the darkness of the tunnel, "Gods know we need it."

Carolara thought at first to wait a bit, give the group some time to get ahead. But then she looked back around at her once-more empty cell and sighed. It turned out that even after years, a few more minutes did make a difference. On top of that, the jailor could come back and decide to put her in another cell that didn't have a convenient escape tunnel attached to it, and that was a dreadful thought indeed. Telling herself to just take it slow so she wouldn't run into them, she went ahead into the dank and pitch dark tunnel, wishing very much that she had a pair of shoes. No, Carolara Moorhart was never quite so lucky for that. All she had was a ragged dress of sackcloth to protect her from the elements and the tunnels were much colder than her cell. The sight of sunlight, the feel of grass; the hope for these things kept her moving forward.

But then something sprung her to a bit more urgency; the sound of clashing steel and battle-cries from ahead. Staying out of sight and crouching low the Breton was able to catch sight of the fight, small body curled up behind a pillar and barely peeking out. She saw the Emperor; a dagger in his hand but holding back behind his armored guards. They were being attacked by figures in red robes who threw fire from their hands.

Carolara bit her lip. She wanted to help somehow, but she didn't have any weapon whatsoever and had never been a hand-to-hand fighter or, despite what many assumed about Bretons in general, a magicka user. And would that count as 'getting in the way'? But as she weighed her options the battle worked itself out, the men in robes lying dead on the floor.

"Clear, for now," said the Redguard, staring around with his bloodied sword still out, ready to pounce if another emerged. He looked back to his Emperor. "Sire, are you alright?"

But Uriel Septim was gazing off somewhere their eavesdropper could not see, and one of the men went over that way. "Captain Renault?" He inquired.

"She's dead," came the reply. "I'm sorry, Sire, but we have to keep moving."

"There's trouble ahead," was the last thing Carolara heard the Emperor say as they walked out of earshot. She heard a metallic sound, and slipped hesitantly out of hiding to see that they'd shut, and locked, a large brass door behind them.

Her fellow Breton was lying still on the ground, still clutching at her katana. Apologizing softly, Carolara claimed the spare shortsword on Renault's belt; the large curved blade left alone out of both respect and preference for the lighter weapon. She then turned her attention to the bodies of the assailants, turning them over and checking them for gold or anything valuable. Once she did manage to get out of this underground system, she was going to need supplies and passage. Where would she go next, she mused as she sorted through each one. Valenwood sounded nice. She'd always loved the forest, and it was the greatest of them all... best of all it was warm and lush year-round.

The red-robed men didn't seem to have anything on them but their robes and knives, and no lockpicks to her disappointment. When the Breton straightened up again she could only see one alternative route around the door they'd locked; yet another dank dark tunnel.

Steeling herself, and unable to shake the feeling that something was waiting for her ahead, Carolara proceeded. She had no other choice.


	3. Blind Faith

Thankfully, the dark tunnel was a short one. When Carolara emerged from the other end she the heard voices of the Emperor and his guard again; it seemed her route was just a detour off of their own. Remembering their threat, she kept quiet, lying flat against the ground on the upper level of the room they were passing through.

"We should find a defensible spot and protect the Emperor until help arrives," an Imperial man's voice was saying, a tinge of panic to it.

"Help?" replied the Redguard with a guffaw, incredulous, impatient. "What makes you think help will get here before more of those bastards? We need to get the Emperor out of here."

The Emperor spoke, calm, patient. "Have you seen the prisoner?" Carolara lifted her head just enough to be able to look down and see them, but ducked away when his wise eyes locked onto hers. She laid there perplexed; how could he see her when his trained guards could not?

"Do you think she followed us?" the Redguard man glanced back at the way they had come. "How could she?"

A smile from the old man, "I know she did."

"Dawn is breaking!"

Both Carolara and the party below her turned to the source of the very Elven voice to see another group of the red-robed men rushing at the Emperor and his guard from one of the many branched-off passageways. The guards, their swords already in hand, rushed to meet them but it was four on two.

Carolara cursed under her breath. She didn't want to get in trouble for getting in the way, but her conscience wouldn't be quiet and she couldn't abandon the Emperor to death. Outlaw or not, he was still her Emperor, and it was thanks to him that people had all those nice things to steal in the first place. Thus the redheaded Breton leapt from her hiding place above, using the force of that jump to knock one of the men right down on the ground. The Redguard finished him off before she got a chance to, a bit to her relief, and he spared her not a glance, too concerned with the battle for the moment.

As soon as the fight was over, however, the Imperial guardsman turned his anger on her, putting his sword up against her throat. Carolara dropped the blade in her hand and put her hands up, "I'm on your side!" She objected. "I promise!"

"Glenroy." The Emperor came forward, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "She is not one of them. She can help us."

"As you wish, Sire." Respectfully but begrudgingly, Glenroy backed off from the Breton, moving away to wipe his sword clean on the robes of his enemy.

Carolara took a moment to remember to bow, swiftly reclaiming the weapon when she did, nervously smiling as Uriel Septim's eyes were on her. "Thank you, Sir... ah, Majesty."

"They cannot understand why I trust you," he said, gesturing for her to walk alongside him as they proceeded on. "They've not seen what I've seen. How can I explain?" The Emperor rubbed the snowy stubble on his chin, struggling to put thought into words. Carolara felt the scrutinizing eyes of the Redguard behind her but daren't look back.

"Explain what, Sir?"

"I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens." Uriel spoke softly as they strode down empty stone halls, seeing naught but the occasional rat. "The skies are marked with numberless sparks; each a fire, and every one a sign. The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

Though still intimidated by her situation, the Breton was always appreciative of a good talk- and how many people could say they had a chance to speak candidly with the Emperor? His calm was rather infectious too despite his morbid prediction, keeping Carolara's hand from shaking too much on the sword. From her own fear came the question, "Aren't you afraid to die?" She heard the Redguard clear his throat. "I mean, aren't you afraid to die, Sir?" A sigh came from behind her. She shrugged.

"I have lived well," the Emperor replied with a chuckle, "and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour."

Glenroy stopped the group, hand in the air. "Hold up," he said firmly. "I don't like this."

Carolara tensed, looking around for any sign of movement in the surrounding darkness. They were in another room with far too many good hiding places for comfort, standing right in the middle of it all with lit torches. She frowned at the small but still heavy blade in her hands, very much wishing it was a bow. It didn't seem the other men had any projectile weapons either. Inconvenient.

Her attention was caught by a clanging sound; it was Glenroy trying to open the gate ahead to no avail. "Dammit! The gate is barred from the other side!" He drew his katana. "A trap!"

The Redguard followed suit but glanced over his shoulder, turning around, "What about that side passage back there?"

"Worth a try. Let's go." But his partner was ahead of him, getting the gate open and stepping into the room. Uriel Septim followed, and Carolara was just behind; but once they got in there was nowhere else to go. A collective sigh filled the room.

"What's your call, Sir?" The Redguard asked his Emperor. But before the man could reply there was a maddened rallying cry from whence they had just came and Glenroy darted for the door.

"Wait here, Sire!" He shouted, rushing headlong into the incoming group. "For the Emperor!"

"Stay here," the Redguard instructed the wide-eyed Breton, who nodded blankly at him. "Guard the Emperor with your life!"

Carolara's knees felt a little weak but she placed herself between Uriel and the door, brandishing her blade and trying to not to look as frightened as she felt. She jumped a bit when the Emperor placed a hand on her shoulder.

"My guards are strong and true," he said, tone grave once more. "But even the might of the Blades cannot stand against the Power that rises to destroy us. The Prince of Destruction awakes, born anew in blood and fire. These cutthroats are but his mortal pawns."

Between the battle outside and the dark, near-mad words the old man was speaking, the Breton could find no answer as her Emperor took the massive diamond-shaped crimson amulet from around his neck, then seized her free hand and placed it in her palm. She nearly dropped her sword, staring at it in fear and wonder, then questioningly looking back to Uriel.

"Take my Amulet," he said with urgency, "Give it to Jauffre. I have a secret son, and Jauffre alone knows where to find him."

In a sudden but fluid motion, Carolara slipped the amulet around her wrist and then used the free hand to seize her Emperor by the arm, jerking him forward as she jumped back. But much to her horror, she felt him collapse against her, dagger in his back; she had seen the assassin behind him a second too late. An elven laugh sounded out, and the old man in her arms wasn't breathing. Stunned, she lay him down on the stone floor, not taking her eyes off the assassin who just haughtily waited for her to make her move.

And that she did, dodging deftly past a fireball he threw and stepping into range to slice him deep across the chest. A snarl from the hooded elf, who retaliated with a blast of icy air that sent the small Breton sprawling onto her back. The sword clattered to the ground out of reach. But as she was struggling to sit up, skin stinging from the intense cold, the Redguard rushed back into the room and put his katana through the assassin's gut.

The man hadn't even hit the ground yet when the guard saw what had become of his Emperor and rushed to his side, dropping to his knees and checking for a pulse. "Talos save us," he said heavily, taking off his helmet in reverence, his exhausted and battered state making him the picture of despair. Carolara didn't need to ask what had happened to Glenroy; his friend's face told it all. She rose, shaking heavily as the adrenaline wore off and the nerves set back in, fidgeting, wondering what would become of her now.

It was the Redguard who voiced what both were thinking. "We failed._ I've_ failed." He threw down his sword and helmet, slumping against a nearby wall.

"I'm sorry," Carolara said shakily, carefully sitting down some distance away from him but averting her eyes. "I wasn't fast enough."

"No," he shook his head. "It was our responsibility, the Blades are the ones sworn to protect the Emperor." The man pulled off his gauntlets to run both hands over his bloodied face. "And now he, and all his heirs, are dead..."

"Actually, perhaps not," the Breton turned over her hands to reveal the Amulet, and the Blade's eyes widened. "He spoke to me before he died. There's another, and I have to get this to him... well, to a man who knows where to find him, someone named Jauffre."

The Redguard seemed unbelieving. "Jauffre? He said that?" Wearily, he crossed his arms, looking at the ceiling in thought. "Another heir... nothing I ever heard about. But Jauffre would be the one to know."

"You know where to find him, then? Because I haven't the faintest idea."

"Of course. He's the Grandmaster of my Order, although you may not think so to meet him. He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol."

She nodded, "That chapel east of the city, right? I've seen it."

"Tell him Baurus sent you," he said, scrutinizing her. "It feels weird to entrust the Amulet to a thief, but..." A brief glance to the still Emperor, looking away quickly. "He saw something in you. Trusted you. They say it's the Dragon Blood, that flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men."

Carolara looked to wall that had been behind the Emperor during his final words. Where there had unmistakably been stone before there was now a small hole, just big enough for someone around her size to slip through. It had probably been some kind of Illusion spell, she thought, peering through and seeing naught but a sewer grate in a small room, right behind the door that had been barred from entry. They had been herded in like sheep for a slaughter, and they had somehow known right where their prime target would be... these assassins had, seemingly, thought of everything. What if they knew about the heir too? She clutched the Amulet.

"I have to go. Now."

"Down that grate is a tunnel into the sewers and out of the city." Baurus said to her, shifting slightly and removing a key from his belt that she caught with ease. "I'll trust you, too. I better not regret it."


	4. Constant Motion

The afternoon sun streamed in the windows and lit up the Amulet of Kings as it lay on the wooden desk. Both parties were silent; Carolara was still panting for breath, having run an uphill road all the way to the Priory with atrophied muscles and bare feet, and Jauffre was still letting her hasty words sink in. By all appearances a simple old monk, the Grandmaster of the Blades had surely seen some odd things in his days, but this easily ranked among one of the oddest.

He gestured for his fellow Breton to have a seat and she did, nodding gratefully. "Well," he said, rubbing the smooth top of his head. "This certainly is no fake, so I have no choice but to believe you. And the Emperor spoke of his hidden heir... I am one of the few who know he exists."

"I'll find him," Carolara blurted out, even before her mind registered what she'd just done. Trying her best to straighten her sweaty, grimy hair, she backpedaled, glancing at the floor. "I mean, if you know where he is, and would like me to, I was asked, I may as well."

Jauffre seemed to understand, smirking a bit. "And your enthusiasm is appreciated. I accept your offer of help. If Uriel's words rang true, we may need all the assistance we can get."

"What do you mean by that?" She tilted her head.

The old man intertwined his fingers, resting his elbows on his desk and lowering his voice, the smile gone from his face. "The Prince of Destruction he referred to is none other than Mehrunes Dagon, one of the lords of the demonic world of Oblivion. The Emperor's final words certainly suggest that he perceived some threat from Oblivion."

Carolara slumped a bit in her chair, the words sinking in heavily. "That sounds like it could be _quite_ a problem," she understated, reaching out for the crimson jewel and contemplating its surface with her fingertips... and even in such a grave situation she couldn't help but to appraise it, speculate how much it might sell for. By far, it was the most spectacular jewel she'd ever laid eyes on, and that was saying something. She'd been inside the grand Dragonsreach palace of Whiterun, the mansions of Godsreach in Mournhold, wizard towers in High Rock, and never seen its equal.

"So this Amulet is how we stop it?" She inquired at length, forcing her eyes and hands away from it with some difficulty. "Is that why he gave it to me, I mean, had me bring it here?"

"I'm not sure," Jauffre replied. "Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation. When an Emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark, for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires are more than symbol."

Deciding not to think too hard about how a jewel lit a fire and leaving that thought to the domain of mages and sorcerers, Carolara just nodded. "So we find the heir, give him the Amulet, and make him carry out this ritual. Simple enough. I'll set out right away if you give me the directions."

"In that condition?" he raised a brow, assessing her. The copper-haired Breton looked down at herself and for the first time really understood the sorry state she was in. Hardly a patch of skin or dress wasn't tainted with grime and dirt. Her hair was matted and she daren't smell herself. Jauffre stood, chuckling lightly as she sighed, striding over to a chest sitting against the wall and opening it. "Take what you like. I keep some things on hand to resupply traveling Blades; consider it payment and thanks. Once you've done that feel free to some food and a wash, but I doubt I need to remind you of the urgency."

Carolara thanked him and began to rummage. A scout's set of leathers would keep her protected while allowing her to be quiet and light on her feet. A bow reinforced with steel was also just to her liking, complete with a full quiver of finely-made arrows. If there was one thing she could do well, it was shoot. Living on the road, never knowing where her next coin would come from, meant hunting for one's meals and the necessity had made her eyes keen enough to hit a fleeing rabbit. Clean, quick, precise. She knew she'd need some practice after the incarceration but she felt confident she'd quickly get back into the swing of it.

After her wash, which considerably raised her spirits, the Breton took a dagger and proceeded to give herself an imperfect, but much-needed haircut. Her jailors over time had never allowed her close enough to a sharp object, or even someone holding one, so it had grown almost down to the small of her back. Far too long for comfort. She cut it as even as possible just above the shoulder, surprised by how much lighter it made her head feel and braiding the bits of it just around her face to prevent stray hair from blowing into her eyes while she shot. The beds in the Priory looked very tempting after that, and her muscles ached in protest and urged her to rest, but Carolara ignored them. There was someone in danger and she had to get to them first.

She was to go to the Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch, Jauffre told her, and ask for a priest by the name of Martin. He had no idea he was the son of Uriel Septim, and Carolara could only hope he wouldn't think her mad. There were no roads directly connecting the cities, but that was no obstacle for the wood-wise Breton. She was pretty familiar with most of the western Colovian Highlands of Cyrodiil from her youth, and while she couldn't exactly remember the city of Kvatch she knew where it was; almost directly southwest across the sprawling wilderness of the Imperial Reserve.

By the time Carolara had put on her cloak and was ready to leave, a small satchel of food at her side, there were only a few hours of sunlight left. "The Amulet will be safest here," Jauffre was saying as he saw her out. "When you return with Martin, we will figure out our next move. And, take this."

In her open hand he placed a mithril compass. Sturdy, but of exquisite craftsmanship, a tiny yet detailed etching of a dragon on the back. "Belonged to a friend of mine in the Blades," he explained, "But neither one of us travel anymore. Should help you get to Kvatch all the faster."

"Thanks. I won't let anything happen to the heir," She assured him. "We'll keep as low of a profile as we can."

She'd already failed once, Carolara reminded herself as she stepped off of the road and into the forest, her pace as brisk as she could muster without exhausting herself. It was time to make up for it.


	5. About to Crash

Even though she moved at a fast pace, Carolara took the chance to appreciate the forest around her. It was the only thing keeping her awake; this would be her second night in a row without sleep and she was really starting to feel the exhaustion. But her urgency drove her forward, stopping only when she had to, not daring to get comfortable when she did for fear of dozing off.

It started out as a lovely late summer's night, warm and clear, and navigating by map and compass was easy. Both the moons were nearly full, and moonlight poured between the trees, lighting up the forest. Wolf packs howled to one another, though she was grateful for their distance. One tree in particular had a spectacularly large shelf mushroom growing on it, of a type the wood-wise Breton knew to be edible and quite tasty even raw, so she broke it up into pieces and added them to her satchel. Carolara could smell rain on the winds, which were gradually picking up, so she appreciated the clear while she had it.

Soon enough, the clouds began to roll in from the west and she pulled her hood up. Carolara took her bow in hand and shifted her quiver beneath the cloak to keep the strings and fletchings from getting wet, noting that the trees were getting more and more spaced out. The grass was getting thicker and taller, too. Just as it began to rain she came out of the forest entirely, finding herself looking at miles of rolling grasslands.

What caught her attention most was the light of torches around a large stone statue, situated atop one of the hills. There was movement too, someone was there. Telling herself it wouldn't take but a minute to see what was going on, and it wasn't out of the way, she went for it. On approach she could see two elves and a Khajiit, drinking and making merry around a statue of Sanguine, reveling in the hedonism the Daedric Prince was known for. Daedra worshippers, especially now, made Carolara wary but she reasoned that Sanguine's followers were relatively harmless, only interested in having a good time, as was Sanguine's way.

And they were indeed friendly, their reaction to her approach being all smiles and hugs and offers of liquor. To them, this traveler was just another person to revel with, and she accepted some brandy to soothe her aching muscles and give her a boost. It was nice to find friendly faces and it did her spirits a world of good to just drink and chat for a few minutes, after which she politely excused herself, not forgetting the urgency of her task, telling them only that she had a message to deliver to Kvatch. One of the elves told her that she would be able to see it just over a couple more hills. She proceeded on, moving a bit faster now, and the color of the clouds hinted that the sun was beginning to come up.

They were right... but her feet froze and her heart sunk as she crested the final hill.

"Oh, no..."

The walls of Kvatch were charred black, the trees outside them burned-out husks. A blaze could be seen rising above them, smoke billowing up from it and into the sky. The clouds seemed to be separated above the city, a red glow visible from the sky there, as if hell had opened up above it.

It would seem those responsible for the Emperor's death had found Martin Septim first, and they were powerful. Carolara began to run, her exhaustion forgotten for the moment. She couldn't accept this. She had to hope against hope that there were survivors and he was one of them. She was forced to go around the outside of the city, as the only gate was on the southern side and she'd approached from the north, only stopping when she heard an elven voice yell out, "You're going the wrong way!"

An Altmer was running the opposite direction, stopping and panting with his hands on his knees just a stone's throw away from Carolara. His clothes were smeared with ash. A survivor! Immediately she blurted out, "What happened? Where's Martin?"

"The Daedra!" he took her by the shoulders, shouting in a shaky, panicked voice. She shied away, hood falling back onto her shoulders, afraid to make any sudden movements by the look on his face. "Daedra overran Kvatch in the night! There were glowing portals outside the walls... Gates to Oblivion itself!" The elf kept on, pausing every so often to gasp for air. "There was a huge creature... something out of a nightmare... came right over the walls... blasting fire. They swarmed around it... killing..."

Carolara stared up at the city in horror and began to run again, ignoring the Altmer's shouts to turn back. Her heart was pounding in fear but she couldn't turn away. She had to know for certain. Once she hit the road, she saw a small encampment and made her way toward it. A group of people, some wounded but all of them ashy as the fleeing elf had been, huddled around a fire in grim silence. She slowed to a walk, getting her breath back and approaching them cautiously.

"Excuse me," the Breton spoke, and a few of them didn't even look at her. "Is there a man named Martin among you?"

A golden-headed Nord woman in a blue dress that had once been quite beautiful spoke up first, "If you mean the priest, I don't think he made it out of the city. Very few of us did."

"Haven't seen him around the camp," said an Orc, crossing her arms.

Carolara sighed, cursing under her breath and plopping down into a sit, heart heavy with the thought that she'd failed to protect both Septims, joining the refugees in their silent despair. But after a few moments a Redguard man among them spoke up. "You might ask Matius."

"Matius?" she echoed.

"Savlian Matius," said the Nord. "He's in charge of what's left of the city guard defending this camp. They're still holding the Daedra back, at a barricade up the hill."

The spark of hope was dim, but renewed, and she got back up. Still riding her adrenaline, Carolara made her way up the hill. The rain ceased as she entered the cloudless area over Kvatch, and she could see the red sky when she looked up. The closer she got, the more it smelled like soot and sulfur, a powerful combination that turned her stomach.

At the top of the hill, where the earth was charred and black, stood an oval-shaped fiery portal framed in unnatural black stone. It was nearly as tall as the city walls, blocking entry into Kvatch. Corpses of Daedra, guard and civilian lay scattered between where she stood and the hellish portal. There were only three guardsmen alive. Exhausted and jumpy, they at first leveled their bows at her when they heard her approach from behind but quickly lowered them.

One of them approached her, and from the way he carried himself Carolara presumed correctly that this was Salvian Matius. "This is no place for you, civilian." He pointed down the hill. "Get back to the encampment at once!"

"I'm here on Blades business, actually. What..." She looked around, wide-eyed, still stunned at the level of devastation. "What happened?"

Salvian gave her a look that suggested he didn't think too highly of her intellect after a question like that, but she was too tired and frightened to be very eloquent. "We lost the damn city,_ that's_ 'what happened'!" He snapped, and Carolara winced. "It was too much, too fast. We were overwhelmed. Couldn't even get everyone out. There are still people trapped in there."

The Breton perked up, staring off toward the blocked city gate. More survivors... that meant there was a chance.

"Some made it into the Chapel," the acting guard captain was saying, "but others were just run down in the streets. The Count and his men are still holed up in the castle. And now we can't even get back into the city to help them, with that damned Oblivion Gate blocking the way."

Carolara crossed her arms and turned away, Salvian walking back over to his two remaining men. She was silent for some time, mind racing, no idea what to do. There was no getting into the city, but the longer she waited, the more likely it was that there wouldn't be anyone left to rescue. Still without a clue as to how she could assist, she volunteered. "How can I help?"

He slowly turned to face her, and she could feel them all scrutinizing her. "_You_ want to help? You're kidding, right? You look as terrified as a cornered deer."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," the Breton replied with a dry chuckle. She then lifted her bow. "But if I turn my back on this it'll haunt me forever. I have to try. I'm fast, and a good shot. I'll do whatever I can."

Salvian glanced at his men, who shrugged, and then back to Carolara. "Hmm… if you're serious, maybe I can put you to use. It'll likely mean your death, though. Are you sure?"

She shivered, and her knees felt a bit weak at those words, but she nodded anyway.

He nodded firmly. "I guess I've got no choice. We're the only line of defense between the Gate and the encampment, so we're stuck here at this barricade. I sent men into the Gate, to see if they could find a way to shut it. They haven't come back, and I can't spare anyone to find them. Get in there, find out what happened to them." A grim look over to the Gate, "I won't think less of you if you decline."

"No no," Carolara tried to keep her voice steady, eyeing the fiery portal. "I... I accept. So I just, what... walk through and it'll take me to Oblivion?" Her grasp on her bow tightened, attempting to force the shaking of her fingers to cease. The longer she looked, the worse it seemed, and every instinct was telling her to flee. But her heart knew better. Innocent people were in danger, and one of them was the last of the beloved Septim line. "And then we close it somehow from within?"

"That's right," Salvian replied. "I don't know how to close this Gate, but it must be possible, because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial attack. The best I can say is, good luck. If you make it back alive, we'll be waiting for you."

Wishing very much that she'd had a chance to get some sleep, Carolara began the careful walk to the Gate, trying not to look at the corpses she picked her way over. If she somehow survived, she told herself, she would shell out for the most comfortable inn in all of Cyrodill and spend an entire day curled up in a soft bed. Oh yes, that sounded like paradise.

Such thoughts were small comfort, however, as she stood before the towering Oblivion Gate, reached out a trembling hand to touch the flaming portal- and vanished from Tamriel.


	6. The Crimson Sunset

Carolara was nothing short of shocked when the first thing she spotted upon entering the Oblivion Gate was a man in a bloodied Kvatch cuirass, fighting for his life. Two impish scamps were on each side of him, hissing and clawing. The Breton barely hesitated and pulled an arrow from her quiver, nocking and firing. One scamp fell when it hit its mark, and the Kvatch guardsman dispatched the other in the opening provided by her distraction.

Relief overcame his desperate expression and he ran up to her, while she finally took a look around. All the earth here was charred and hot; an island dotted with the spiked silhouettes of towers, situated in a sea of lava to which there seemed to be no end. Red and black as far as the eye could see, the sky a mess of swirling crimson clouds and streaks of lightning, the resultant thunder rumbling through the hot air. It was a landscape straight out of a nightmare and the air was filled with the smell of brimstone.

"Thank the Nine," the Imperial said breathlessly, snapping up her attention. "I never thought I'd see another friendly face."

"Matius sent me. Are you all that's left?" Carolara handed him her water-skin; he very much needed it.

He gestured behind him while he drank, the Breton fighting back the urge to snatch it from him before it was all gone. Thankfully it wasn't as light as she expected when she got it back. "We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off," he explained. "I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge."

She finally followed his gestures with her eyes to see the corpses of Daedra and guardsmen scattered on a stone bridge, a closed metal door blocking one from going any further. Beyond that she could spot what seemed like a road that led up to the biggest spiky tower of them all.

"That's where I saw them take Menien," the guardsman spoke, staring off the same way.

"Then that's where I'm going," Carolara replied, wishing she sounded more confident but unable to summon up even a bluff in the face of this nightmare. She looked over her shoulder; the portal out still stood, providing her some level of mental comfort that if things went sour she might be able to make a break for it. "You, ah, wouldn't know how to shut this thing, would you?"

"Afraid not," he shook his head. "Do you need some help?"

A shaky smile on her freckled face, the Breton looked back toward the road. She thought she could see movement, but there was too much smoke and distance to be sure. "Don't take this the wrong way but I sort of work better by myself. Two are more easily seen than one, and I'm sure Matius would appreciate your help holding the barricade."

"Alright," An understanding nod. "I'll get out of here and let the Captain know what's going on." The guardsman began to make for the portal, but he paused and reached into the small pouch on his belt, handing her a tiny glass vial.

"What's this?"

"My last healing potion. You'll need it more than I do since you're planning on going in further. Take it as thanks; you saved my life, brought me back from hell. I won't forget it." With a grateful smile he turned away, striding towards the Gate and vanishing the moment he touched it.

Thus Carolara was left alone in the hellish plane, where she immediately began to walk up to the closed metallic door on the bridge. Constantly she felt as if she was being watched, though looking around over and over only served to stall her and revealed nothing. She searched for a mechanism or switch or something to open the thing, but came up empty, leading her to believe it was probably controlled remotely. So many towers shooting up into the blood-red sky all around, it could be hidden within any of them. The one at the end of the road's exaggerated height suggested great importance, so she stayed focused on it. There was just the matter of getting to it.

Knowing she was exposed on the bridge, the corpses around her serving as grim reminders, the Breton made herself hurry. She went around the edge of the doors, clung to the stone, and dared not look down at the lava she dangled over as she swung around the outside. She rushed off the bridge after that, staying low and moving to the side of the road.

The movement was becoming increasingly undeniable. At first she thought it was a large single entity, but it moved too irregularly. Soon it was close enough that she had to duck into the shadow of one of the smaller towers, laying flat against the uncomfortably hot ground as it passed. It turned out to be about a dozen armed and armored Dremora soldiers, coming down the road in a group. Something unseen to the Breton made the metal doors she'd just gone around come open, sweeping corpses into the magma as they moved, and the dread realization hit her that they were marching out the Oblivion Gate. Carolara was powerless to stop them. She counted more than a half dozen and she didn't estimate she could fell more than two before the rest closed in... she'd just have to count on Matius and his men and do her part to stop the flow of Daedra quickly.

The inside of the tower was brighter than it had been outside; a pillar of fire stood in its center running as far up as she could see. The heat radiating off it could be felt all the way at the edges of the room, and many of the tower's floors were visible even from the entrance, encircling the bright pillar. This room was seemingly empty but she laid low nonetheless, hoping nothing would spot her from above. The deep green of her cloak was perfect for forests, but in the wastelands of this daedric plane it wasn't quite as stealthy.

For what felt like hours she tiptoed through dark corridors and snuck past Daedra, looking for any sign of survivors or a way to shut the gate. The occasional smear of blood or chunk of armor was the only indication there had even a human presence, and it hope was looking weak for any that had been brought here. Then, finally, she came across an important-looking door; bigger and brighter than some of the others, something written in Daedric above it. Carolara knew but one or two letters of the demon's written language so she could not tell what it said, but it was one of the only labeled doors, and it was locked.

Not a problem! She thought at first... and then she remembered she didn't have so much as a bit of wire to pick it with. Her mastercrafted set of thieves' tools was probably still sitting in a chest in Mournhold somewhere. So she turned around and descended the ramp she'd just come up, recalling that there was a door she'd passed by before in favor of continuing skyward.

Opening this door resulted in Carolara's heart skipping a beat. She knew she'd gone up quite a ways, she just didn't imagine very accurately how high. From here she could see the entirety of the place and the Oblivion Gate itself, and even silhouettes where the sea of lava met the horizon that hinted at other such hellish islands weren't too far off. Before her was a terribly narrow bridge devoid of any kind of railing that led over to one of the smaller towers. Without much alternative the redhead slung her bow across herself and began to cross, arms outstretched, telling herself over and over under her breath to look forward and not down. She didn't always listen.

Once across she found herself near the top of the smaller tower. Under the sound of the thundering skies her entry was hidden, and thankfully so too. Just at the top of the ramp she could see a Dremora in robes, channeling a spell at something. Perfect... he hadn't seen her yet _and_ she had a clear shot. Not moving too fast so as not to catch the creature's eye she set, pulled, aimed, and let go. Right through the skull, it made not a sound as it fell. Carolara was waiting a couple of moments to see if any more appeared when a weak voice inquired from the above room, "W-who's there?"

A human voice. Her eyes widened and she scrambled to a stand, running up the ramp. The man was alive; but it seemed the Daedra had been 'interrogating' him. He was slumped in a suspended metal cage, his body and the floor below him splattered with blood, one of his eyes swollen shut. The other gazed upon Carolara with desperation.

"Quickly... quickly!" He tried and failed to sit up, pointing to the fallen Dremora, "The Keeper has the key... you must get the key!"

Carolara followed his wild gesturing with her eyes and saw a key-ring on the creature's belt, bending down to retrieve it. There was only one key on it, made of a metal black as night. She began to circle his cage, unable to see a lock or a mechanism anywhere on it. The walls were blank too. "I can't figure out how to open it," she came back to the front of him and crouched to speak to him on level, "Where's the trigger to get you out of here?"

He groaned, the look in his good eye suggesting at a difficulty staying conscious. "Get me... no!" The man shook his head, fighting for awareness. "There is no time! The key opens... the top of the large tower. Remove Sigil Stone... the Gate will close. Remove..."

But the Breton refused to accept more loss. In frustrated futility she struck the bars, "I'm not leaving you here!"

The loud sound seemed to snap the tortured guardsman awake even more effectively, and he narrowed his eye at her, "I just heard them talking. More moving out._ An army. Soon._ There's no time, you stupid woman... go!"

Growling, the stress and fear and exhaustion starting to pile up on her and push her to the point of choking up, Carolara turned and ran. She bolted right across the thin bridge without so much as slowing down or losing her focus on the door ahead. Her mind wouldn't let her look, terrified of seeing how close the encroaching Daedra were to the Gate, but she could hear the marching of metallic boots hundreds of feet below. Matius' band of surviving guardsmen wouldn't stand a chance, and then the civilians... her heart pounded in her chest. _I can't fail again,_ she mentally chanted._ I can't fail again!_

Though her hands shook, she had the lock open with incredible speed and she resumed her pace up into the top of the tower. Two scamps spotted her when she came into domed room at the very top, and she could see what she assumed to be the Sigil Stone between them, floating in the pillar of flames that stretched all the way from the bottom floor of the tower. Remove it, the man had said. It appeared to be on fire and she could feel the heat even at this distance. Carolara winced preemptively, but swiftly resolved to herself that burned hands were a small price to pay for saved lives. Now she had other things to think about anyway, namely the fireballs the scamps were throwing her way.

She didn't have time for a shootout with them, not even grabbing for her bow. Rather than that she kept her eyes on them, dodging each shot of magical fire that came her way as she ran up a ramp and right at one of the two. It swiped at her as she passed and tore across her left thigh, right through the leathers. Carolara yelped but didn't miss a beat, spinning around and kicking the creature in the face with her other leg to stun it while she reached for the spherical stone.

The moment she snatched up the Sigil Stone, the scamps let out a grating cry and fled. She didn't have long to marvel at the fact that it felt quite cool, or that her hands and the leather gloves on them were somehow both intact after reaching into fire; for the ground began to shake. Pieces of the tower began to collapse around her, the realm itself coming apart. With nowhere to run, and panic freezing her body, Carolara put her hands over her head and prayed that the Nine would save her.


	7. As I Am

Beneath a clear and starry night sky that just hours before had been a hellish red sat a man alone with his thoughts. He stared blankly into the fire for answers neither it nor his prayers could give. Shoulder-length chestnut hair swayed in the wind, the edge of the breeze bearing the foreshadowing chill of the coming autumn, but he did not shiver or seek shelter, and despite the dark circles beneath his eyes he could not seem to find rest like the other refugees. Occasionally he'd get up and pace to and fro to keep from getting too stiff, or stoke the fire, but it seemed nothing could quiet his racing thoughts long enough to sleep.

Carolara came out of one of the tents, looking around in wide-eyed confusion, and immediately a gust of wind forced her to wrap her arms around herself, trembling with cold. Her gaze drifted to the only other person that wasn't sleeping. The full moon made the fire barely necessary for light, but she was drawn right away to its heat and company, her expression reflecting all the questions in her head.

"Did I close it?" was the first thing out of her mouth, carefully sitting down on a stool across the fire from him. She gave his robes an odd glance, but said nothing of it.

He nodded in the affirmative, picking up a charred stick and speaking in a soft voice. "You did, but it put some strain on you. They say you never even gave your name, but I thank you."

She smiled briefly; he was right. The chaos had been too much to even think of introducing herself. "It's Carolara; and I'm just glad I succeeded." The Breton intertwined her fingers, leaning forward a bit and lowering her volume. "Were there any more survivors?"

"After you closed the Gate, Matius and the Guard cleared the way to the Chapel and got us out; 'us' being the civilians that were trapped inside. They had us come down here to the encampment, but hours later we heard they got into the Castle and cleaned that out as well. But," a sigh, "Daedra got to the Count and the rest of them before the Guard arrived. So we were the only ones."

Carolara shook her head in disappointment, trying her best to be grateful that she did at least some good. It didn't feel like enough. Minutes of awkward silence passed in which the man began to stoke the fire with the burned stick. She eyed his robes again and finally decided to ask the question burning in her mind. "So... you're a priest?"

"Yes. I'm a priest." That very word was spoken with such disdain, and he narrowed his eyes, averting his gaze to the fire. "Do you need a priest? I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having trouble understanding the Gods right now."

"I can certainly agree with that," the Breton meekly brought her knees up against her chest, curling into a ball atop her stool. "But then again, they never made much sense to me anyway."

"I prayed to Akatosh all through that terrible night, but no help came. Only more Daedra," the priest lamented, running his hand through his wavy hair and taking a deep breath. "You saw that gate, saw what was behind it. What good is a priest?"

Carolara pursed her lips, watching him. Anything she could say in comfort would just come across as disconnected and superficial so she knew better than to try, getting to the point instead. "Gods or not, if you are who I think you are, we can put a stop to this."

He raised his head, suspicious at best, and downright insulted if this was a joke of some kind. "If you came to me for help, you're more of a fool than you look. Who is it that you think I am?"

"Martin, right?"

A pause, "I never gave you my name."

"One of Uriel Septim's Blades told me," Carolara explained, slowly placing her feet back down on the ground and resting her hands in her lap. She watched him closely for a reaction as she said in a near-whisper, glancing around before doing so, "You're the Emperor's son."

Martin stared, causing the Breton to avert her eyes, looking down at her hands and the ground. His disbelief seeped into his tone. "No, you must have the wrong man. My father was a farmer. Even if I was, what good is that supposed to do?"

She fidgeted, still not daring to look up. "Ah, see, I'm not too clear on that one myself. I'm not exactly a Blades agent. I'm more of a messenger in all this, it's part of the ritual of coronation or something that keeps things like that at bay," she gestured toward Kvatch, "or so I was told."

A deep, shaken breath, and Carolara lifted her head, making herself maintain eye contact so as to not appear a liar, fully aware of how strange she sounded. Martin was still skeptical, arms crossed, but his expression was softening. "Please," she went on, "Just... let me take you to the Blades Grandmaster. He can explain it all to you much better than I can. I swear I've got no reason to lie about all this. Even the Daedra know who you are, that's why they..." She stopped herself, biting her lip when the Imperial's gaze tore away from hers to stare into the fire in guilty shock. That last bit had come out all wrong. Carolara winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I didn't mean to imply..." A shake of the head, ceasing her ramble. "Sorry."

The silence this time felt far longer than it probably had been, each passing second more uncomfortable until finally, Martin spoke up.

"It's strange... I think you might actually be telling the truth."

"Perhaps stranger still that I am," she quipped dryly. "So you'll come with me?"

The priest looked up the hill toward his charred city. It wasn't as if he had anything left here, and those that had survived had already been provided with what meager healing he could give them. And if there was a chance he could stop this from happening somewhere else he would gladly contribute, even if he did not yet know how. The refugees would be safer without him there, too, and they both knew it.

After a moment or two of thought, Martin turned to Carolara and nodded. "Shall we leave right away? I still don't think I'll be getting any sleep."


	8. Caught in a Web

Martin was so quiet during the first leg of their trip that Carolara kept looking over her shoulder to make sure he was still there. His demeanor was still downcast and she wanted to cheer him up but knew better than to irritate him by trying right now; after an incident like Kvatch, he was going to need a little time first.

When the sun began to rise it became apparent what shoddy states they were both in, so at the first pond Carolara sighted she led them off the road and they took turns keeping a look out while the other washed up. The Breton wasn't able to get as clean as she wished, but her mind very much disliked the prospect of leaving the heir alone for any amount of time, no matter how alone they appeared to be out there. As soon as the state of 'good enough' was reached she was putting her leathers back on in a hurry.

Getting it all back on, however, showed her that it wasn't just her cleanliness that was a problem. The plain brown leathers were practically shredded in places. On top of that, she took inventory of her ammunition and counted only a dozen or so arrows remaining. Taking Martin to a city was an idea she didn't like much, but she couldn't do her duty to protect him very efficiently like this. Just to the East was Skingrad; they could make a supply stop there. That is, if they had any coin between them. Carolara's purse was empty.

It seemed Martin needed the stop too; she came out of the bushes where she had dressed to find him sitting on a rock, inspecting a burn-hole in his shoe. The Breton suggested they go to Skingrad but admitted to being broke and in response he produced a small sack of coins, handing it to her. "It's not much, but it should be enough to get what we need."

"Are you sure?" Carolara was wide-eyed, taking the purse humbly and looking within. "I swear I'll pay it all back to you as soon as I can."

A dismissive gesture, the Imperial putting his shoe back on and getting to a stand. "Don't be absurd, my friend. You saved the survivors of Kvatch and you're defending me with your own life. It's the least I can do." For the first time that day, Martin managed a brief smile.

She counted out the coin silently; as he had said, it wasn't very much, only about twenty septims, but it would probably be good enough to cover repairs to her leathers, replace his shoes, and buy a fistful of arrows. If there was any left over it would be used to get them some nicer food, Carolara resolved mentally, not too concerned with their meal situation as the forest was abundant with edible things. She even still had most of the mushroom left. So they set out eastward on the road, and now they walked side by side, making it easier for her to keep an eye on him. They proceeded in silence, Carolara appreciating the green landscape and avoiding dwelling in her thoughts as Martin was.

They could tell they were approaching Skingrad by the sweet tinge to the air. The city was known for its rolling vineyards, and it produced almost all of Cyrodiil's wines. Soon they were passing field after field of grapevines, and it served to remind them that neither of them had eaten for several long hours, but they agreed to wait until they had run their errands. Neither were very keen to linger in the city.

Skingrad was abuzz with talk of what had just happened to Kvatch, much to Carolara's dismay. It did neither of their spirits good to keep being reminded of what they'd just been lucky enough to live through, particularly when most of the city hadn't been quite so fortunate. They picked up the pace, heading to the trader's shop first and dropping five of their coins on a plain pair of shoes for the priest and a blue and green linen dress for the Breton to don so her armor could be handed over for repairs. The local tanner claimed ten more of the coins, eight for the repair work and two for some crude iron arrows, leaving them with just enough to get something to eat while they waited for the leathers to be fixed up.

Carolara had just settled into a chair around one of the inn's few empty tables; it was lunchtime and the place was bustling with people. Martin stood some yards away, having intercepted the cook for a moment to inquire after soup, the agreed-upon dish, when the Breton noticed she wasn't the only person watching him. Across the room, a raven-haired Nord woman with a positively sour expression leaned on the wall, arms crossed, not taking her eyes off the Imperial. The longer she stared, the more uncomfortable Carolara became, and she took her bow from its place leaning against the table, laying it on her lap and nocking an arrow out of sight. If nothing else, the very motions made her feel better.

After several very tense minutes, the Nord woman looked this way and that, not spotting the Breton, and began to approach Martin from behind. Carolara's heart pounded and her hands tensed on her bow; she feared the worst, but dared not act without proof she was up to no good. The Nord reached out and took something from a table she passed, whose diners had just left minutes before. It was hard to tell what it was at first, but it glinted in the lamp-light, and when she was within arm's length of the Septim heir she brought her hand up high, revealing a meat-cutting knife.

She would never bring the knife down; an arrow zipping through the crowded tavern with expert aim and piercing right through her neck, dead before she hit the ground from the force. The cook dropped the tray of food she had been carrying and Martin spun around, looking at the body in shock. The room went silent. Carolara lowered her bow, shaking slightly. She had almost seen two Septims stabbed in the back, and now she was facing the stunned stares of the entire tavern. She slumped back into her chair in combined embarrassment and relief.

Most of the diners seemed to lose their appetites, leaving in a hurry and abandoning their meals, a couple calling for the guards. The cook fled back into the kitchen. A couple of more world-wary patrons and the innkeeper herself stayed, claiming they had seen the entire thing and it had been an act of defense. As they talked, Carolara learned the woman's name had been Else, and she was altogether unpleasant to everyone, but this still came as quite a surprise. Though dislikable, she had never been violent.

The guards came around and Carolara worried they wouldn't believe her, and she might have been right. Fortunately for her, they believed a priest of Akatosh, as well as the locals that backed up their story. Yet, it was hard to be comforted... by all appearances, the cultists not only had agents all over the place, living as civilians, but they now knew Martin's face. She refused to believe coincidence was involved.

The minute everything was cleared up, they were back out of the city. No more roads or cities, they agreed. It was far too dangerous. The tavern in Skingrad was far too close of a call for comfort so into the wilderness they went. Luckily, as expected, food was plenty. Barely an hour in the Breton found not only a large blackberry bush but a whole mess of strawberries just beside it and they ate until their fingers were stained, leading to the first genuine laugh of the day.

It might not have lasted long, but in the middle of all this gloom and death, Carolara needed moments like this to keep her sane.


	9. Losing Time

The peace of the forest was shattered by frenzied shouting. Just a hill's climb away from Weynon Priory, Carolara and Martin stopped in their tracks to witness a Dunmer half-running, half-sliding down the slope towards them, waving his arms madly.

"Friend of yours?" the priest inquired, nervous, understandably wary of strangers for the time being. He looked down at Carolara to see her pausing in the ready of her bow.

She hadn't even nocked an arrow yet when she decided against doing so entirely. "I don't..." Her head tilted, squinting, and then finally her eyes lit up in recognition. The Breton had seen this elf before, tending to the flock as they grazed in the Priory yard. But just as she was voicing her findings a figure came down the hill behind him, clad in the crimson robes that Carolara would never forget the look of.

The Dunmer saw as the bow came back up but seemed to understand the arrow wasn't meant for him, dropping to his hands and knees to give her a clear shot. Carolara was a bit surprised when her shot wasn't the only thing flying toward the enemy; a blast of conjured ice traveled with it and struck almost precisely where her arrow did, the combination sending the cultist swiftly to his death. The Breton, once sure the target wasn't getting back up, glanced at Martin in mild surprise.

"I didn't know they teach you to do that in the priesthood," she commented.

The Imperial shrugged. "They don't."

Statements like that were nothing but catalysts for Carolara's boundless curiosity but for now that had to take a lower priority in her mind, for the Dunmer was finally finding the breath to speak. "I think... I'm the only one... Maborel, Piner, they were cut down..."

The Breton remembered the Amulet and felt her heart sink. She began to hurry up the hillside, nocking an arrow and calling for Martin to stick close. He quietly complied, readying himself to cast a spell at a second's notice. Together they came to the road, and the Priory was in full view. As the Dunmer shepherd had warned, the other two monks lay dead near the well, their wounds bad enough that she didn't even feel compelled to check for a pulse.

Signs of life, however, did come from the Chapel building. The doors were already thrown open, revealing Jauffre holding his own against two red-robed cultists wielding short blades. The length of his katana was enough to force both combatants out of range to be of any good, and his speed was nothing short of surprising for his advanced years. Two of their compatriots already lay still; one on the floor, one draped unceremoniously over a damaged pew. Carolara and Martin rushed to his aid and soon the remaining cultists were dispatched by way of arrow and spell respectively.

"You're back," Jauffre nodded at his fellow Breton when he'd caught his breath. "Thank Talos. I have bad news, but..." here his gaze drifted to Martin and he smiled. "It seems it has not all gone against us. I am Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades. I'm sure the lady has told you why you're here."

"An honor. I didn't want to believe her at first, but too much has happened for it to be anything but the truth." The Septim heir nodded, the memory of pain still in his voice when he said, "And, I don't want to see another Kvatch."

The old man took a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to clean his katana with it. "I heard about all that. Stopping it would be as simple as taking the Amulet to the Imperial City and crowning you... that is, if we had the Amulet."

"I was afraid of that," Carolara sighed. "Gained the heir, but lost the Amulet. Do we have any idea where they might have taken it?"

"No," Jauffre admitted, "but we've got a bigger problem right now. Martin cannot stay here. It's not safe."

She knitted her brows in thought. "I'm not entirely sure there is such a thing as a safe place from this."

"Perhaps not," was the Blade's grave reply. "But if there's such a thing, it's Cloud Ruler Temple."

Carolara tilted her head in blank confusion, but Martin perked up a bit, inquiring, "Is that the mountain fortress? I think I've heard tales of it."

Jauffre nodded in the affirmative. "Cloud Ruler Temple was built long ago, by the founders of the Blades, back in the days of Reman Cyrodiil. It is high in the mountains near Bruma... our ancient fortress, sanctuary, refuge of last resort."

The smaller Breton put her bow back over herself, glancing out the door in a moment of paranoia. "And you're sure it's safe to corner ourselves in the mountains?"

The Grandmaster tilted his chin up pridefully. "Don't underestimate the Blades. A few men can hold that fortress against an army. The Blades stationed there will provide much better protection than just two Bretons."

"Can't argue with that," Carolara shrugged.

"Let's get what supplies we can carry and leave at once." Martin's voice was the most purposeful she'd ever heard it. But there was remorse, too. Even though his mind knew better, his heart felt like these tragedies were his fault in some way, and Carolara had just caught a glimpse of that conflict.

They salvaged what they could from the Priory House; the interior of the building had been sacked, every drawer pulled out of its chest and every book on the floor. There was a room that Carolara hadn't seen on her first visit, and rightfully so. The door had once been hidden behind a bookshelf, which was now a pile of splintered wood and torn books. In lieu of picking the lock on the desk Jauffre claimed the Amulet had been in, someone had burned the top away entirely to get at it. She and Martin gathered up food that wasn't damaged, which turned out to be quite rare in the cult's wake, while the Grandmaster sent a message ahead of them by carrier bird.

The sun was already down when all three saddled up but no one so much as mentioned it. Aside from the good deal of yawning the party was silent and it was too dark to see the mountains, but less than an hour in they all lost their drowsiness in the face of the biting northern wind.

When Carolara spoke, it was only to briefly utter that she could smell snow coming.


	10. Just Let Me Breathe

The trees had turned from a rich green to gold as they continued on, the horses plodding uphill slowly but surely. Carolara was peering all around them through the white aspens, her cloak drawn around herself as best she could, nervous and cold. She was not used to being under such stress, and wondered silently if she would have taken on this task had she known how ruthless the Empire's enemies would be.

The old paint horse beneath her tossed its head now and then, ears swiveling, picking up on the Breton's anxiety. Ahead of her, Jauffre and Martin outwardly seemed far more collected, the Blade telling tales of the late Uriel Septim the Seventh. She hadn't been paying attention, though, and lost track of what was happening in the story about the evil battlemage that tried to usurp him; preoccupied with peering at every sign of movement she saw.

Soon the snow came, and with it a light fog. There was no wind so the flakes fell gently to the ground, which was getting rockier by the hour. Carolara's tired eyes began to play tricks on her in the darkness, but she couldn't ignore the slightest motion or sound, for after all, it might be the one she ignored that turned out to be real.

The road split, and the party came to a stop. They all dismounted and stretched out their stiff muscles by pacing around a bit, and Carolara handed out strawberries, wishing very much that they had something more substantial. For now, though, anything would do. Jauffre took out his map, checking their course. Martin, however, was peering off east at what looked to him to be a campfire, but it was difficult to see through the dense forest. He pointed it out to the others.

Carolara, being the smallest and most wood-wise of the group, offered to scout it out. The other two remained at the crossroads, on their guard, but thankfully she wasn't gone long. There was a dismal look on her face as she came back out of the forest to meet them.

"It's another Gate," she said. "There were a few Daedric creatures guarding the outside, but I wasn't spotted."

Martin shook his head sadly. "What could it be doing in a place like this? There's no cities or even villages within quite some distance of here."

"Still, it's dangerous," Jauffre reasoned. "It could be that they're trying to secure this road. Whatever its purpose may be, we must keep moving for now." He folded his map and put it away in the pocket of his robes, took hold of his saddle and pulled himself up into it. "The enemy is determined, but so are we. I suggest we make no more stops until we reach Cloud Ruler Temple."

Carolara followed suit. "I suppose we've not got time to shut it, at least right now."

The old man let out a sigh and as soon as Martin was situated, they started to move again. "The truth of the matter is, you cannot possibly close every Gate they open. With the Dragonfires unlit, they can just as easily open another to replace the ones you destroy."

"Jauffre's right," the Septim heir chimed in, "Everything I know about Daedric magic suggests such stable portals are impossible, but the old rules no longer apply. Best to stay focused on restoring the barriers; treat the disease and not the symptoms."

"You can be right all you want, that doesn't mean I have to like it," Carolara replied dryly, glancing over her shoulder just as the reddish glow finally went out of sight.

* * *

When the three of them arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple, the Blades were already waiting. The massive gates came open before them and a man in Blades armor came out to greet them; a Redguard, but not the same one Carolara had met in the escape tunnels. He gave Jauffre a questioning look and the old man just nodded, silently confirming. Then he bowed graciously before Martin, who didn't seem to know how to react.

"My lord, welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple." The man straightened up, tone formal. "We have not had the honor of an Emperor's visit in many years."

The priest tried not to fidget. "Ah, well, thank you. The honor is mine."

Jauffre laid a hand on Martin's shoulder with a nod. "Come. Your Blades are waiting to greet you."

They left the horses at the gates for the moment and began up the stone stairs. As they neared the top the rest of the Blades came into view, fully armored and lined up on the left and right, the dozen or so of them all with their eyes on the heir. It all felt like a procession, the Redguard leading up until they reached the top, where he took his place in one of the rows. It was all silent but for the sound of their own steps as they walked. Just before the door they stopped and turned around to face the assembled Blades. It was Jauffre who at last broke the stillness, speaking up so that all could hear.

"Blades," he spoke, "dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope." Jauffre gestured for Martin to step forward, which he did with some hesitation. "Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!"

Every last one of them drew their swords and raised them into the air, letting out cheers that echoed off the mountainsides, hailing him as their Emperor and Dragonborn. The Grandmaster smiled to Martin when it began to die down, "Your Highness. The Blades are at your command. You will be safest here until you can take up your throne."

"Say something to them," Carolara suggested lowly. The Imperial nodded at her in agreement, and raised a hand to quiet the last of the cheers.

"I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best. But this is all new to me. I'm... ah, I'm not used to giving speeches," a slightly nervous chuckle, continuing the humble tone. "But I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you."

Jauffre spoke over the applause, "Well, then. Thank you, Martin. We'd all best get back to our duties, eh?" And the small assembly dispersed in almost every direction, some of the Blades returning to posts on the fortress wall, some heading inside the building.

Carolara herself was just thankful she wasn't on the horse anymore, though she knew she'd probably be sore for a couple of days. The rough road had not been kind to her. She began to walk along the fortress wall herself, marveling at the view. The sun had come up behind the clouds some hours ago and the snow persisted, limiting visibility, but there was enough to see for it to be beautiful. It reminded her a bit of Skyrim and rightfully so; by her guess, the border into that Province was just a few more hours north from the Temple.

She didn't notice Martin following her until he spoke up, startling her a bit while she was marveling at how high up they were. "Not much of a speech, was it? Didn't seem to bother them, though."

Carolara glanced over to see him standing next to her, looking out at the view as well. "Just by being here you've given them hope," she said. "Honestly, though, it wasn't that bad. Maybe you'll get better at it."

"I suppose I haven't got a choice."

The Breton tilted her head, unsure how to respond to that except to shrug, shifting her weight uneasily. She grew still when she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Martin's tone was apologetic. "I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank you."

She nodded, giving his hand a reassuring pat and then folding her hands behind her back. "Well, don't thank me yet. Save it for when this is over. I could still mess things up, you know." A dry chuckle, inwardly scolding herself for her poor taste, averting her eyes. "I'm sorry, that's not funny at all, is it..."

The Septim heir leaned so that both hands were on the stone ledge, staring out at the barely-visible silhouette of the White-Gold Tower where all his ancestors had reigned, and thought aloud. "Everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven't the faintest idea."

The very concepts boggled Carolara's mind, and she found herself less than envious of his position. In her mind, she would crack under all that weight. "All I know is, I need to find a way to get that Amulet back."

"Of course. Stopping the Oblivion invasion comes before all else. It's just that... ugh." Martin winced in pain, bringing a hand to his forehead.

The Breton's eyes went wide, hurriedly looking him over, "Are you okay? What's the matter? Poison? Magic?"

"No no no no," he shook his head. "It's all right. There's no cause for alarm... I think my exhaustion is getting the better of me. I'm going to see if the Blades have a spot for me to rest." Martin turned away from her and began to leave, pausing only to say over his shoulder, "You get some sleep too. Thank you again."

"Yes, your Highness," Carolara lightheartedly called after him. It felt strange saying it, but she didn't doubt that it was even stranger for Martin. He had a lot of adjusting to do. But where did this all leave her? What now?

Finally, when she'd had enough of the cold, she approached the large wooden doors and entered the fortress. The first thing she noticed was the fire and she made a beeline for it, past the rows of tables and benches. The main hall was quite large; a high peaked ceiling, huge fireplace, and the furniture suggested it was both meeting place and dining hall. The few Blades that were in there respectfully nodded her way as she passed, Jauffre among them. Carolara had just taken a seat in one of the chairs when a clay cup was held in her view, contents steaming.

"Lavender tea," Jauffre said, pulling one of the other chairs a bit closer and sitting down with his own cup. "Can't have you getting ill."

"Thanks," she replied, taking a sip. It was very strong, but delightful, and warmed her all the way to her toes. "Any ideas on how to find the Amulet, let alone steal it back?"

"I've sent a Blades agent to the Imperial City to investigate where the assassins might be hiding out, but we're still awaiting word from him. However, I wanted to ask you something." Carolara just tilted her head quizzically, looking at him over the rim of her cup, so he went on. "You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honored to accept you into our order. Will you join us?"

The smaller Breton raised a brow, a somewhat skeptical look on her face. "You realize I'm... ah, well, me and the law... well, you know."

"That very well may be, but that is in the past. I am offering you a future. You've dealt with the enemy and their Gates directly; we could use your skill set." Jauffre swirled the remaining tea in his own cup before finishing it. "All you must do is be sworn to the service and protection of the Emperor, as the mortal representative of the dragon-blood of the divine Talos."

"You know what?" Carolara said at length. "I'll do it."


	11. Another Day

_Carolara had just settled into a chair around one of the inn's few empty tables; it was lunchtime and the place was bustling with people. Martin stood some yards away, having intercepted the cook for a moment to inquire after soup, the agreed-upon dish, when the Breton noticed she wasn't the only person watching him. Across the room, a raven-haired Nord woman with a positively sour expression leaned on the wall, arms crossed, not taking her eyes off the Imperial. The longer she stared, the more uncomfortable Carolara became._

_She made to reach out for her bow, but something heavy stopped the motion of her hand. Chains... where had they come from? No matter how she pulled and stretched the chains held her back just barely out of reach of her bow. Another inch and she could touch it. But there was no time. The Nord was closing in with a wicked grin and Martin remained oblivious. Carolara opened her mouth to shout but no sound came. She tried to scream, thrashing in her chair and rattling her chains; she felt her voice go hoarse but no one so much as reacted. The knife raised into the air... and the Breton shut her eyes tight, unable to stop it, and unable to watch..._

Carolara snapped awake, sitting up and looking around with wide brown eyes. She'd rolled a couple of feet from of her mat and lay on the bare wooden floor. Most of the other Blades were still asleep; even in her fitful nightmare she hadn't managed to wake them. A wince as she began to get up, still sore to the bone from the days previous but she was in need of some calming before she could even think of dozing back off.

Wrapping her blanket around her shoulders the Breton braved the cold outdoors. It was the middle of the night and the sky had cleared, the moon lighting up the freshly-fallen snow on the Temple and on the peaks around them. The storm had moved down into the valleys, blanketing most of her distant view in grey, making Cloud Ruler Temple feel all the more strange and isolated from the rest of Cyrodiil. A couple of Blades at post regarded her hazily when she paced past. They were probably still adjusting to their new nighttime shifts; their Captain wished for there to be not a single hour in which the Temple's defenses were lowered. They felt as if they had to go above and beyond to make up for the tragedy that had occurred on their watch, a sentiment Carolara could sympathize with.

The more she paced, the more awake she felt. There was no going back to bed, at least right now, not for Carolara, so she abandoned her blanket at the mat and donned her leathers. Her mind was restless and the nightmare hadn't helped that in the least. She found Roliand, a gruff Nord and fellow Blade, patrolling the interior and left word with him that she was going to scout and would return by morning. So with that she took her bow and about half her supply of arrows and went out the massive gates of the Temple. If nothing else, it might put her mind at ease to know their position was secure. At least that's what she hoped.

The snow out here was deeper than it looked, coming well up over Carolara's ankles as she trudged along. The forest between the Temple and the nearby town of Bruma was eerily still. She kept her eyes peeled for tracks, hoping the snow would betray anyone that had followed them, using the bright moonlight to guide her way and occasionally stopping to pluck a few leaves from useful plants. What felt like hours passed without so much as a life sign but the Breton found herself appreciative of the peace. For that time, she could at least pretend that things were alright, that a great doom wasn't looming over them all. Yes, she was just taking a leisurely stroll in a quiet wood, that was all. And up here, so far from Kvatch, it was nearly believable. She wondered for how long.

During a brief stop for a drink of water, Carolara's keen eyes finally caught movement. For a split-second a shadow passed between her and the moons and she looked up. A bird; small, grey. She nearly dismissed it before realizing it was far, far above its comfortable altitudes, and it was heading toward Cloud Ruler. Carolara scrambled to follow.

She was breathless and panting when she returned to the Temple courtyard and found her fellow Blade Arcturus untying a message from the creature's leg. They could not read it; it was written in code, the Imperial explained to her, and only Jauffre and the Captain had the key. Thus Carolara waited in the main hall, warming herself by the fire and waiting anxiously as the Grandmaster was stirred awake and brought round to decipher it.

She was beginning to doze off when Jauffre finally came into the main hall, a purposeful look on his face. "I have some news," he said, "And another errand, if you would accept it."

"I do hope it's not bad news," Carolara replied, stretching and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "And I'm a Blade now. You can just give me orders, you know... ah, Sir."

The old Breton pulled up his chair closer to the fire; the main hall was for all its comforts a bit drafty. "As you like," he conceded with a shrug. "I have an assignment for you then. Baurus thinks he's tracked down some leads in the Imperial City. The Captain has set up a round-the-clock watch here at Cloud Ruler, and that makes you the only Blades agent we can spare."

It took her a moment to recall where she knew that name from; the Redguard had been the only survivor besides herself after the attacks in the sewers. Carolara wondered how he'd react to them being part of the same Order now, a small smile finding its way to her lips at the thought.

"So I'd like you to go as soon as you've made preparations," Jauffre went on, "Meet Baurus at Luther Broad's Boarding House, listen to what he's found out, and assist him in any way you can. This fortress is well-supplied with arms and armor, so if you need anything feel free to take it from the armory in the east wing." A thoughtful pause and he looked the woman in the eyes. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you the importance of finding the Amulet of Kings before the enemy takes it out of our reach."

She nodded. "Of course, of course, Sir. I just have one minor reservation."

"What's that?"

Feeling a bit on the spot, Carolara fidgeted, unable to meet his gaze as she explained. "I wasn't exactly... let out of prison. Will I not be arrested if recognized?"

Jauffre shook his head. "No, no, of course not. I made the arrangements once you left to find Martin- Blades business takes precedent over Imperial law particularly in times of need. Your record has been wiped clean. After all, I couldn't have you getting arrested in Kvatch."

She had to remind herself to close her mouth after hearing that. Part of her wanted to leap up and hug the old man, but that was probably very improper behavior toward one's superior... at least she assumed so... so she stayed put. "I can't thank you enough. I'll do my best to stay out of trouble."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he warned, wagging a finger at her and dealing out a heavy dose of realism. "I'm sending you _looking_ for trouble and expect you to do whatever your judgment deems necessary to get the Amulet back. We'll take care of whatever consequences come as a result. Are we clear, Miss Moorhart?"

A solemn nod. "Crystal, Sir."

After their talk the small Breton made her way back to the west wing where she'd been sleeping and gathered up her things. The armory was stocked with more arrows than she'd ever need; she filled her quiver and barely put a dent in the supply. The only armor there was heavy, too heavy and restricting for her needs, so she stuck with her much more comfortable leathers. On top of that she found a set of alchemical supplies in the east wing and set to work making her shots deadlier. The herbs she had picked in the woods, when ground up and prepared just right, refined into a powerful toxin and hours later she had half of a bottle filled with a viscous, greenish liquid and a few arrowheads already generously coated. The addition of a stripe to the fletching set these apart from the others in the quiver... Carolara felt as ready as she was going to get.

By the time she entered the main hall with pack and cloak ready to go, the sun had been up for a couple hours and a few of the Blades were talking and taking their morning meals, nodding to her as she passed. She spotted Martin among them, looking far more rested than she'd ever seen him and smiling as he spoke with his protectors, from the sound of it trying to get them to drop the formalities long enough for a good chat. As she was on rather important business she made to pass them by with naught but a wave, but her Emperor-to-be put his conversation on hold to get up and intercept her.

"Jauffre says you're off to the Imperial City," were the words that paused Carolara, and she faced him with a smile.

"That I am," she answered. "Hopefully to get your Amulet back."

"Of course," Martin nodded, falling into step alongside her and accompanying her out into the courtyard. "So we... er." A chuckle as he corrected himself. "I... can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion."

Carolara glanced over, catching the slightly unsure look in his eyes and saying sympathetically, "The idea is probably going to take some getting used to. Are you holding up alright?"

He was quick to brush away any signs of insecurity, putting on a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, Carolara. Just focus on your mission; I know I'm in good hands here."

They stopped just short of the stairs while the Breton went through a mental checklist, trying to be sure of her own readiness. "That isn't quite what I meant," she shook her head dismissively, lacking the time and energy to pry, "but... just take it one day at a time, and stay safe."

"That's what I should be saying to you." The Imperial crossed his arms over each other to ward off the cold breeze. "Come back to us in one piece."

"I'll try," was the best assurance Carolara could bring herself to offer, having to summon up the willpower to start making her way down those stone steps.


	12. In the Presence of Enemies

The Imperial City.

Carolara had never seen its equal. Even Wayrest in all its glory could not compare, and it put Mournhold to shame. A circular city of stone surrounded the impossibly tall White-Gold Tower in the center; said to have been built by the elves in the First Era, it housed the Imperial Palace and the Elder Council. Massive, magnificent, it was all she could do to remember her business and not be distracted by every amazing sight. A statue of a dragon with wings outstretched greeted her just inside the city gates, encircled by the well-kept gardens that could be found in every district.

Arriving in the mid-morning, the Breton found herself maneuvering through crowded streets, the air alive with conversation. People were going about their usual business but she could sense the pervading air of unease. Couriers handed out news leaflets to anyone with an empty hand, nearly every headline about either the Emperor's assassination, the destruction of Kvatch, or both. The sky above was covered in a thin layer of greyish-white; it seemed to threaten rain, but Carolara wasn't picking up the telltale scent. Perhaps the city was blocking it.

There was no room at Luther Broad's when she found it, in the midst of the crowded lunchtime there was barely enough space to squeeze in and find Baurus. So she opted to wait, taking a seat in a smaller tavern just off one of the back roads. The clientele here was quite different; at Luther Broad's it had been mostly Imperials but in this place Carolara was one of a handful of humans in a room full of Dark Elves, Khajiit and Argonians. There was foreign food available but she had no good memories of Dunmer cuisine, ordering a plate of fruit instead. The elves beside her were engrossed in conversation, and she found herself listening in.

"I think she's still there in Morrowind," the male beside her was saying. "Living as a commoner, maybe in a disguise, you know?"

The woman beside him shook her head, downing her drink with considerable speed. "You would think that, Sathas, but I know what I heard."

"What, just because your sister's friend's cousin _might_ have heard it, it's true?" Sathas scoffed. "What possible business would the Nerevarine have in Akavir? It doesn't make sense. And it still doesn't explain where Lord Vivec has gone."

"I guess you're right," the elf woman shrugged, conceding his point. "None of the supposed 'sightings' in the last few years have given any real proof... so it's just another worthless theory in the end. Who knows." There was a tinge of despair in her voice as she said, staring into her empty cup, "Maybe they've given up on us."

The names rang familiar to Carolara but just vaguely; she knew only that they were very important people of some kind, mentioned often by her Dunmer jailors during her Mournhold incarceration. She was never clear on what purpose they served but Dark Elf society was a strange and alien thing to even a well-traveled sort like herself. The two elves didn't speak much after that, just ordering a fresh round and drinking in sullen silence. When she finished her meal, Carolara was not eager to remain in their company. It was not doing her spirits any good.

The hours after the rush of lunchtime found the Boarding House almost vacant. The innkeeper and a couple of others were going from table to table, gathering up dirty dishes and cleaning up the mess the patrons had left behind. Only a few remained, and there was Baurus, sitting at the bar in civilian clothing with a mug, an inkwell and a journal. Carolara casually sat beside him, smirking when he raised his head to regard her with muted surprise. He didn't immediately speak, turning back to his writing and the Breton noted how tense the air felt, ordering herself a drink to avoid suspicion.

After a few moments of writing he slid the book a little bit her way, and she looked over to see, written in the margin, 'Trick, then walk out. Man in corner with book will follow. You follow him.'

Carolara was careful to give no indicator of acknowledgement, raising her cup to her lips and leaning back a bit as she drank, searching the corner of her vision. She dared not turn her head to look but she saw the man he was warning about, face buried in a parchment-wrapped book. But Baurus had begun his aforementioned ruse, resting an elbow on the bar and eyeing the Breton with a sly smirk.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you a lovely little thing," the Redguard chuckled in feigned egotism, "You look like you could use some company, and I guarantee you've never had better."

He was a pretty good actor, Carolara noted in amusement, but so was she. Putting her best scowl on her lips she narrowed her eyes at him, "Oh, is that so? I'm sure my_ lover_ would just adore the way you're talking to me right now."

An overblown dismissive gesture, "Well he's left you all alone, my dear." He began to lean in, slipping one arm around her shoulders, eyes meeting with hers solemnly; she felt this was her cue. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him..."

The swiftness of her strike made it seem much harder than it actually was when she brought her loose fist against his nose, but he reeled back as if hit with full force, cupping his hands over his 'injury' and glaring at her. Carolara just tilted her chin up and returned to her drink.

Baurus growled, "You're not all that pretty anyway," a scoff. "Bitch." With that he turned away and made his way over to the innkeeper, pretending to plug up the blood flow from his nose. "Hey, Luther," he addressed the man, "Are there any clean rags in the basement?"

The innkeeper just nodded, and the Redguard disappeared down the steps, not shutting the door behind him. For a few minutes, which ticked by agonizingly slow thanks to her tension, Carolara heard and saw no sign of movement from the man with the book. She was beginning to wonder if Baurus had the right man when he got up, folded his book under his arm, and slipped into the basement as well thinking he hadn't been noticed.

The Breton rose from her chair as soon as he was out of sight, getting her bow in hand and nocking one of the poisoned arrows. Her nerves were on edge as she peered down, only the light of a single lantern illuminating the darkness below. The suspicious man, from his height probably a Breton like she was, set his covered book down and straightened back up, taking a deep breath. He was going to make his move, she could feel it.

Nothing could have prepared Carolara for what she saw next. The man raised his hands into the air and spoke a strange word- one she couldn't identify or attribute to any language she knew- and over his clothes there formed a set of ornate red and black armor. It was difficult to see well but she could see it shining metallic in the dim light, and it bore an unmistakable resemblance to the robes of the previous cultists. A mace materialized in his hand as well. She'd seen the workings of Conjuration magics before; powerful wizards were able to summon Daedric creatures to do their bidding and some could even summon weapons, but this was different. There wasn't much time to think about it. Her target disappeared around the corner before she could fire and she scrambled down the stairs after him.

The Redguard was locked in combat with the man when they came into view again, and Carolara raised her bow. Their target didn't know she was there and never would, her toxic arrow deep in his spine and Baurus's katana through his chest in a matter of moments. As the life faded from him so did the summoned armor and mace, dissolving into thin air.

"You think on your feet pretty well," Baurus nodded her way, using a rag to wipe his sword clean. "I am glad to see you, by the way. You just caught me at a bad time."

Putting her bow back over herself, Carolara stepped back to pick up the book the man had been carrying. "Let me guess, you're waiting for a Blades agent?" The smirk returned.

He regarded her with brief suspicion, "...really? You?"

"I've only been in the Order for a couple of days," she nodded, "but I'm on assignment from Jauffre to help you. Name's Carolara, by the by... I don't think we were properly introduced before."

The Redguard frowned as the memory of that day returned, but it was only for a moment. "Not surprising. Well." A shrug, and he proceeded to brief her. "Here's what I know. The assassins who killed the Emperor were part of a Daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn. Apparently worship the Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon. I've been tracking their agents in the Imperial City... I guess they noticed." His brows knitted as he noted the book in her hand. "That our friend's reading material?"

As if just remembering she was holding it, Carolara looked down at the tome. "Yes. He set it down to attack you. I wonder..." She dug her fingernails into the parchment that concealed the cover, peeling it away to reveal to them both the gilded title.

_Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes: Book One_


	13. Lifting Shadows Off a Dream

The book was a curious one. At first look to the two Blades, its pages were filled with nothing but fanatical rambles about Mehrunes Dagon. Despite this they did their best to solve its mysteries. They settled down at a table in the Boarding House and together read the volume from start to finish, Baurus carefully inking down on some spare parchment any phrases that stood out or appeared more than once.

But in a book so cryptic and bizarre, it was difficult to tell what was a clue and what was meaningless. Soon they found themselves with more questions than they had to begin with and acknowledged they needed outside help.

On Baurus's suggestion they went to see a friend of his, a tall, deep-voiced Argonian woman who tended the Arcane University's library. Tar-Meena was her name and she had a reputation for unparalleled knowledge of the various Daedric cults that were scattered across Tamriel. And, according to the Redguard, she wouldn't ask Blades too many questions about their business.

Upon their arrival she showed them into a isolated study corner of the library proper and brought them the second volume of the Commentaries. A small booklet of her own notes in hand, she was ready to tell them everything she knew.

Carolara averted her eyes, finding it too difficult to not stare at the Argonian's row of pointed teeth as she spoke. "I don't have much, I'm afraid," the sorceress admitted with a sigh, taking a seat at their small table. "The Mythic Dawn is one of the most secretive of all the Daedric cults. They follow the teachings of the author of these Commentaries: Mankar Camoran, whom they called the Master. He put out these writings in Tiber Septim's day. Like most cults of this nature, it claims its central deity is the giver of true freedom or enlightenment. But no one knows where the Mythic Dawn are, or who's in charge now."

"There's a lot of references to a 'garden' or 'paradise', we think it's supposed to be what Dagon's followers are promised in death for a life in servitude. That, or it's talking very cryptically about their shrine. And I kept finding the same phrase in volume one: 'Come slow, and bring four keys.'" The Breton opened the second volume, tracing her fingers over one of the ornate letters that preceded every paragraph. "And the first volume says... 'here is the first key, glinting with the light of a new dawn'. So the Commentaries are the keys?"

Tar-Meena nodded at her. "Mankar Camoran's 'Commentaries' come in four volumes, but I've only ever seen the first two books. They're referred to as 'keys' for a reason. You two are probably on the right track to believe that his writings contain hidden clues to the location of the Mythic Dawn's secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. Allusions to this are everywhere in the volumes I've read."

Baurus flipped to one of the pages in the first volume and read it aloud. "'While you have the invitation, you have not the address.' So figuring out the hidden meaning is the first test to join the ranks of the cult. It does add up. What's this 'razor' it keeps mentioning though?" He picked up a page of his own notes. "'Razor-fed', 'based on the principles of His Razor', what's that mean?"

"Hmm." The Argonian rested her elbows on the table and leant her scaly chin on her hands, and they could hear her tail swishing along the floor. "There is an artifact, a dagger, known as Mehrunes' Razor; that's probably what it means. It's appeared a few times in history, always surrounded by death and betrayal. To this cult it is a holy relic nearly as important as the Mysterium Xarxes itself."

"So, we need to get the third and fourth volumes before we can track them down." The Redguard shut the book before him.

"Or better yet, the actual Mysterium Xarxes, and not just the books interpreting it." Carolara then raised a brow at the mage shaking her head quite ardently.

"No no," Tar-Meena objected. "The Mysterium Xarxes isn't just a book. It is not of this world, written by Mehrunes Dagon himself; such power could corrupt anyone who handled it. Erm..." she sheepishly took her tone down, suddenly realizing that she'd raised her voice in her excitement. "Of course, if it exists. We at the University haven't any proof."

Baurus shrugged and got himself to a stand, pushing his chair back into place. "Right, well. The Arcane University isn't the only place that keeps weird and hard-to-find books, we've got one other place to check before I'm out of ideas." A nod to the sorceress, and he lifted Volume Two into her view. "Mind if we borrow this, Tar-Meena?"

"Feel free. Just treat it gently, if you please!"

* * *

"This is all giving me kind of a headache." Carolara muttered as the pair crossed the bridge that spanned between the University and the grand walled circle of the Imperial City proper.

The Redguard slowed his pace a little bit, nodding. "I hear that. I was never one for riddles... and it feels like the enemy knows so much about us while we know next to nothing about them. We're supposed to the be the information-gatherers here." A dry chuckle. "Our new Emperor is probably unhappy it's taking us this long."

"He's not impatient like that," she said simply.

Baurus stopped a few steps short of the gateway back into the city and went over to the stone rail, idly looking over. "You know I meant to ask you but haven't gotten around to it... what_ is_ Uriel's last son like?"

Carolara joined him, taking in the view of the crystal-clear Lake Rumare, watching the boats that came upriver to trade at the Waterfront while she tried to find the words. "Martin, hm... I suppose he's... humble, caring, rather sharp but kind of quiet. The whole Emperor thing kind of overwhelms him, and he's been through a lot since the crisis started." She felt a tad uneasy, but couldn't place why, and did her best not to stammer. "I... really haven't known him all that long... but he's poised, kind and handsome, and I'm proud to be one of his Blades."

He just looked at her for a couple of silent moments, her eyes fixed on the boats, and then both tore away from the sight and resumed their walk. "Well I can't wait to meet him," he said. "The Septim line has produced many a great man."

"Where are we going now?" The Breton inquired when Baurus picked up the pace.

He answered with a confident smile. "First Edition, Market District. My buddy Phintias caters to special collectors; if he doesn't have our other two volumes, no one does."


	14. Beneath the Surface

It was a bit late for most of the shops to be open, and the sun had already long vanished behind the city walls by the time they arrived. In that time Carolara had almost lost Baurus twice; the grand city looked very different by torchlight and it was difficult for her not to take in every interesting sight. The briskness of his pace didn't help, but it was well-founded, for he said that the bookstore had no defined closing hour on weekend days. There was no knowing if the proprietor would even be there, or if they'd be forced to wait until morning.

Baurus let out an audible sigh of relief when he tried the door and found it unlocked. Phintias greeted them and the Blade began to warm up his fellow Redguard with idle conversation while Carolara perused the shelves. Once the chit-chat ran out she'd found copies of both beginning volumes, but not the third or fourth, and she came over empty-handed.

"I'll cut to the chase, Phintias," Baurus let his tone dip into the more solemn, "The Blades are in need of Volumes Three and Four of Camoran's 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes'. I understand they're not easy to come by, but you're the best collector in Cyrodiil. So here we are."

The proprietor just raised an eyebrow. "What are the odds. I've never even seen Volume Four, but I had a copy of Volume Three for years."

"Had?" Carolara prompted, somewhat impatiently.

"That's the strange thing. I sold it this very afternoon, to the first person to ever ask for it in all that time."

The Redguard's hands were tense, and his junior Blade could sense that he was fighting back the urge to get angry. She instinctively took a step back, sympathetic with that frustration... Carolara wasn't any happier to be chasing shadows than he was.

Baurus broke the silence, his voice even, having successfully dragged himself back into a calm state. "On behalf of the Blades I'm going to have to ask you to tell me who you sold that book to."

A sigh, "For the love of Arkay, please don't go roughing up my customers. He paid very well and came a long way just to buy it from me, I don't want you two scaring him off."

"You don't understand," Carolara looked Phintias in the eyes. "If he bought that book it's possible he's working with the Emperor's assassins. I'm sure it'd be very bad for business to be implicated in such a plot."

Without another word of objection the bookseller ducked down and pulled out a massive, weathered ledger book. He laid it open on the desk and once he located the entry, turned it round for the Blades to read.

"Gwinas of Arenthia," Baurus read aloud. He then looked up at his acquaintance, who seemed rather cross to be forced to show his records. "He came all the way from Valenwood?"

Phintias let out another exasperated sigh, "He mentioned he had a room somewhere in the city. Dressed in silk and gold, everything about him said 'big money', so I'd try the expensive places first."

Soon they were back out on the street with the door closed quite firmly behind them, and the Breton's keen ears caught the sound of the door being hurriedly locked. Obviously they had overstayed their welcome. Baurus pondered the shop door a few moments, mind running through the worst-case scenarios that his underling was doing her best to not think about. After a few moments he began to lead them toward the high-income Talos Plaza district, and the smaller Carolara had a bit of difficulty keeping up with his pace. She refrained from voicing her concern; they couldn't afford to miss this elf before he got out of the Imperial City, and she very well knew it.

Carolara hung back as Baurus inquired with the publican of a place called the Tiber Septim Hotel. Everything here was exquisite and she found herself unable to look away from the carved, polished wooden cabinets filled with fine silver, the detailed rugs... so much wealth lay in just a single room of this place. Who knew what lay behind doors, locked, though this was only an illusion of safety. Locks could be manipulated to allow anyone access, if one knew the right tricks. And with the clientele of a place like this it would be so fascinating what manner of silks and gemstones and jewelry turned out each night.

Baurus returned to find her a bit fidgety, but either did not notice or just ignored it, she couldn't tell. He had found where Gwinas was staying, but not Gwinas himself. The good news was that their target had not yet checked out. The publican had seen him leaving with a book under his arm not long before, saying he was going for a walk.

"So, what's the plan?" Carolara inquired.

"We find him," he answered simply. "If we don't find him in a couple of hours we come back here, and wait if he hasn't returned by then, but I'd prefer that we chat with him alone if you know what I mean."

A solemn nod. "If he came all this way to get that book he's probably very eager to read it. So there's a good chance that's the book he took with him."

"How's he going to read in the dark?" Baurus wondered aloud.

Carolara held out her open palm, concentrated, and produced a small orb of light hovering just above it. It didn't last for more than a few seconds, however, and she let her hand drop to her side.

"Ah," he smiled knowingly. "Illusions, of course."

"I'm not very good at it except for a couple of tricks," she sheepishly admitted, chuckling at herself. "Even though Bretons are supposed to have it come naturally. But elves are even better with magicka, so he doesn't exactly need to have a lamp. That glow is what we'll probably be looking for."

The Redguard checked his sword, sighed, and led them back out onto the moonlit street. "I'd have us split up to cover more ground, but it's too dangerous. For all we know we're being led into a trap; the enemy is still ahead of the game. We'll have better odds of survival if we stick together."

The streets were practically empty and it was still a bit early, not terribly strange in a time when people were so nervous. The Daedra could feasibly hit any city they pleased next, and rumor abounded they were making appearances in other provinces. The shadows cast on the stone city seemed long and strange in the flickering streetlights, though to Carolara it probably only looked so threatening because of the fears in her head. And when they passed the statue of the dragon it seemed so much more monstrous than in the daytime, where it had felt like a solemn, watchful guardian.

Not twenty minutes into the walk, Carolara was preoccupied looking elsewhere when she collided with Baurus' outstretched hand. "Pay attention," he chided her through clenched teeth, his voice low.

She shook her head, whispering back, "Sorry," and then gazed off the way he was pointing; a gentle white light some distance away, the silhouette of a robed man blocking it off somewhat. "Not trying very hard to be inconspicuous, is he?"

But Baurus's tone was a bit more dire. "His robes are red."

Carolara squinted off in their target's direction, her eyes adjusting to the play of light. He was right.

After some time, the Redguard placed his hand on his sword-hilt. "Alright, listen. It could be the enemy is trying to bait us, so I want you to stay back and keep watch from the shadows. You're pretty good at slinking around. If I'm ambushed or something just run."

She crossed her arms, brows knitting in concern. "That's an awful plan."

"But it is a plan," he said, matter-of-fact. "And we may not have another shot."

The Breton grabbed his arm before he could step toward the seemingly oblivious reader. "What if we wait for him to go back to his room? Corner him there?"

"It'd be easier to pull off an ambush in a closed building behind locked doors than in the open street. The guards are at least still on patrol."

"But..."

Baurus was getting irritated, jerking his arm away from her, "I outrank you, Moorhart. Now follow my orders or leave the Blades. I for one plan to carry out my mission." And off he went before she could say another word of protest.

Leave? It was unthinkable, as frustrated as Carolara felt to watch him run up to the Wood Elf and startle the book right out of his hands. No, in the Blades she had a purpose, a grand purpose; to protect her Emperor, and not just until he could claim his throne, but now for the rest of her life. In the Blades she had found friends. A disagreement would not be enough to make her turn her back on all of that. No, this was one of the few choices in her life she knew she wouldn't regret.

Even as her mind raced her eyes scanned the shadows all around them. There was not a single sign of movement. She looked back over to Baurus to see the elf cowering before him, and something just felt wrong. The hand waiting on her bow relaxed at long last. This frightened man wasn't their enemy... was he? All the rest had attacked them with a reckless, brainwashed zeal, not once showing fear even as they died; this one seemed to have far too much regard for his own life. Telling herself she'd deal with the consequences later, Carolara came out of cover and approached the conversation.

"-that's just foolish prejudice and superstition," Gwinas was stammering to explain himself, clinging to the book in his arms. She was close enough to see the cover; it was their target. "For the adventurous, open-minded thinker, Daedric worship holds many rewards."

That was when she noticed his robes, while red, weren't made of the same material... and she hadn't remembered any of them being trimmed in gold like his were. A glance over to Baurus revealed he was just as puzzled, but no less upset.

"You fool," he growled at the small elf, "They killed the Emperor!"

What little color that was left in Gwinas' face drained away, as did all of Carolara's suspicion that he might be remotely involved with the cult's plans. "Th...the Mythic Dawn were the ones?" And then panic, shoving his expensively-bought tome into Baurus's hands. "You have to believe me! I truly had no idea. I mean, I knew they were a Daedric cult. Mankar Camoran's views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even... but to murder the Emperor... Mara preserve us!"

The Breton stepped closer, trying to use the tone of her voice to urge both men to calm, "The Fourth Volume, where do you get it? We need it too."

Slowly the Wood Elf reached into his pocket, holding out his other hand in reassurance, fearful of moving too quickly. "You can only get Volume Four directly from a member of the Mythic Dawn." He produced a wadded-up parchment, the circle where a wineglass had been set staining the center, and handed it to Baurus.

The Blade looked over it for a moment, squinting to do so in the dim streetlight, and then read aloud. "'When you are ready, come to the Sunken Sewers under the Elven Gardens... come alone'."

"I had set up a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself." The elf glanced between them. "Please, may I go? I don't want anything else to do with the Mythic Dawn."

At a simple nod from Baurus, the Bosmer was heading back toward his pricy hotel at a quickened pace. Just as Carolara was about to speak, her superior interrupted her thoughts, tone stern. "You came out of cover and I didn't give you the signal."

She narrowed her eyes, "He wasn't a threat, it didn't feel right... Sir."

He just shook his head and gestured for her to follow. "This mission is too important to jeopardize. I know you haven't been a Blade very long so I'll cut you a break, but I expect better discipline in the future."

Oh how the immature side of her wanted to protest or at the very least make a witty comment, but she knew how right he was, and felt rather embarrassed to have forgotten the dreadful importance of their mission. Carolara had never belonged to any sort of organized group before, let alone one that was so strict. But to be able to make up for her failure in the sewers, and to keep the pleasant company she had gained, and to be one of her Emperor-to-be's most trusted and close guardians... sacrificing the freedom she'd grown used to would be worth all that.

"I apologize, Sir," Carolara spoke at length, her voice ringing of formality, "It will not happen again."


	15. The Ones Who Help to Set the Sun

As Baurus figured it, they didn't have long before the cult got wind that Gwinas had no intention of making the meeting. On the other hand, both he and Carolara greatly needed rest, yawning back and forth all the way back to the Boarding House. Her sleeping arrangement was handled by her superior, thankfully so, for all she had on her were the couple of coins that technically were still on loan from Martin. It was all that remained after shelling out for the meal earlier. She didn't care what he'd said, she'd pay him back one day, if for no other reason than for the sentiment.

While she lay trying to drift off to sleep her mind often went back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Carolara had absolute faith that her fellow Blades were doing their duty, and yet she still worried. Images of Kvatch and the hellish world inside the Gates would materialize from the darkness behind her closed eyes and jolt her back to awareness just as things were getting foggy. Remembering her previous nightmare didn't help either. It would take a trip down to the tavern area and a couple of stiff mouthfuls of brandy to finally put the Breton out that night.

She woke rather late. Baurus seemed like he'd been up for hours already, reading through and taking notes on the new Volumes they had obtained. Though, as he reported with disappointment, he wasn't any closer to deciphering the hidden meanings. They knew now for certain that they needed all four.

After a day spent resting and generally taking a break from one another's company, they met up again when the sun had gone down. Baurus led them through back-streets and gardens, eventually prying open a metallic door behind a large rock that led down into pitch blackness, and the two descended.

There was some scrambling to get the lantern lit; he almost dropped it into the water right at the beginning and the tinder-box was nearly lost too as it exchanged hands with the owners blind. Once all this was corrected and the lamp began to glow countless rats and other creatures scurried to escape back into the darkness. Both Blades frowned to each other, but pressed on in silence.

Baurus appeared to know his way around the seemingly endless maze of the Imperial City sewer system like he'd memorized the map, which was one possible guess. Carolara followed behind wondering how he could tell all the corridors apart; to her they all looked the same. When he stopped at last she almost collided with him in surprise.

It was here he snuffed the lamp and set it down against the wall. The only light now was the moonlight shining down through a small grate above them, and it took Carolara's eyes a moment to see anything more than pitch blackness. They stood outside a door, and the Redguard was leaning in close in order to be heard in very, very low tones.

"Well. I always wondered who put that table behind this door; now I know. Alright. I think I better handle the meeting, but I happen to know if you go up those stairs-" here he gestured behind him, the edge of stone steps visible in the meager light, "-there's a nice vantage point where you can get a clear shot nearly anywhere in the room. That's where I want you."

A stiff nod. "Yes Sir."

"No matter what happens," Baurus said slowly, solemnly, "Get that book."

Carolara ascended the stairs moments before her superior opened the metal door, stepping through. There was no door up where she was; rather it led to a long narrow bridge that crossed the room from above. She stayed off of that for now. Too visible. Rather she lingered in the shadows of the tunnel and pulled her cloak around herself, hooded face barely peeking out.

Baurus entered the empty room and had a look around, putting on a ruse of light nervousness, fidgeting a bit with his hands once seated at the table. Only a single weak candle served as illumination in here, but that would work in his favor, less likely he would be recognized. The Breton wondered for a moment if she should have objected to someone who's already been targeted meeting with the Sponsor, but shook it off as a childish insubordinate thought. She just had to hope that her fellow Blade knew what he was doing, or in the worst-case scenario, that the book came out before chaos broke loose. The gate on the opposite side of the room stirred, and her heart pounded.

The tall, thin frame and pointed ears suggested an Altmer, hood sitting back on the shoulders of his crimson robes. There was no mistake this time; these were the robes of the Mythic Dawn. Composed, he entered the room, joined hands hidden in his massive sleeves.

"Ah, another has come to us." The elf's voice was strangely melodic. "We have had so many new novitiates in recent days; it fills my heart with joy. So, you want to become one of the Chosen of Mehrunes Dagon?"

Baurus lied well, a believable anxiousness to his voice. "Of course. The Master's writings have changed my life... I can't just keep going on with my normal job now that I've glimpsed the Truth."

The robed man chuckled appreciatively. "The Path of Dawn is difficult, but the rewards are great. I have the book you seek. With it and the Master's three other books you will possess the key to enlightenment..."

Carolara's attention was snapped away from the conversation by the sound of another metallic gate coming open. This time, it was right across from her; two more robed figures were about to come across the bridge and trip over her hiding spot. She glanced over her shoulder; if she tried to back away they would see her move by the moonlight. The Breton had to think fast; they would be on her in mere moments. She spared a glance back down into the room and saw the robed man revealing a tome hidden in his huge sleeves. No more time to wait.

The first man went down without a cry when the arrow went through his forehead, but she couldn't nock another arrow fast enough to shoot the other before he yelled out, "Ambush!" Carolara gave him a poisoned one to the back as he tried to run, but the damage was done.

"I told you to come alone!" the Altmer snarled at him, his voice losing all its false honey. Baurus dropped all pretense and drew his katana, and the sight of the curved weapon of the Blades seemed to infuriate him more. From his hands he threw lightning that lit up the whole room, shocking the weapon right out of the Redguard's hand.

While her fellow Blade lunged for his weapon, Carolara fired a shot that halted the elf's magical offensive; as he held his hand out, charging up the spell meant to end his target, it was pierced straight through. In rage he spun about and glared up at the source, who barely ducked back behind the stone in time to avoid a blast of fire magic from his still-good hand.

When the cultist looked down to see the tip of a bloodied katana coming out the front of his robes, he just smiled. The Breton came out of hiding, seeing the fight clearly won, dropping off the high bridge and landing catlike on the floor. Baurus pushed the cultist, still alive but bleeding out quickly, from his blade and onto the floor. The last gurgling word the elf uttered sounded very close to 'Paradise'.

"I didn't shoot to kill," Carolara felt the need to explain, "Because I thought we might want to question him."

"Fair enough," Baurus nodded at her, having a look around for more enemies but sensing none. "That could have gone better but nice work anyway, I just don't think he would have told us anything. They don't fear death." His gaze shifted to the table. "We got what we came for."

Sure enough, Volume Four lay there, and Carolara scooped it up. "Finally."

Her superior Blade wiped his sword clean on the cultist's robes, partially out of spite she guessed. "What's more, they didn't see your face. The longer we can keep it that way, the better."

"Why's that?" The Breton inquired, leaning down to check for a coin-purse and smiling when she not only found one, but it was quite fat. All that holding back from stealing from lackadaisical shoppers in the Imperial City had come to be rewarded.

Baurus just shook his head at her, ignoring it. "I'll tell you once we're out of here." Once a thief, always a thief, he figured, but he gestured for them to start going back the way they came. One last check of the room didn't reveal anything new so out they went, eager to get out of the stagnant stench of the sewer.

"I've been pondering this for a while," he said as they finally stepped into the fresh nighttime air. "You think well on your feet and while you aren't the best-disciplined Blade I've ever worked with, you've got real talent for subtlety. Since the cult knows my face, I was considering sending you to infiltrate them once we find them."

Carolara blinked at him, slowly putting away the coins. "You're sure about that? You should know the thought terrifies me."

"Rightfully so. We have every reason to believe this Shrine is their main headquarters. I'd be sending you into the lion's den. There's no sugar-coating it."

A sigh from the Breton, hands tight around the book. "Well, I wish you would just a little."

"Try to think of it like a theft," Baurus said after some time. "You would get in, blend in, find the Amulet and when the time is right, disappear with it."

"Stealing to save the world." She chuckled dryly.

"Something like that."

"Well," Carolara ponderously said, "I suppose it isn't my place to deny an order from my superior. And even though it sounds frightening, I think I can pull it off. But first," she patted the tome, "We have to figure out where that Shrine is."

"Naturally. I'm going ahead to the Arcane University's library with this one," Baurus took it from her. "You go back to the Boarding House to get the other three and meet me there."

She glanced at the sky, then back at him, "It's the middle of the night."

"Dawn's only a couple of hours away," he explained, already walking away. "Tar-Meena gets up pretty early so we'll already have notes for her when she does."

Carolara shrugged and headed back to the Boarding House to pick up not only the books, but some ale and cheese to raise her spirits, wondering why she wasn't more used to sleep deprivation by now.


	16. Speak to Me

When Tar-Meena found them working in the library that morning, she disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a few steaming cups. It would perk them up, she said. Neither bothered to ask what it was; a bitter dark liquid that warded off drowsiness, quite effectively so.

By the time of her arrival they had read through volume Four extensively and were trying to draw connections in the other three texts. The words 'Nu-Mantia' and 'Liberty' appeared often, though it was mostly some kind of joyous exclamation. The sentences that preceded them had nothing in common. The Fourth seemed to be the only volume to make direct mention of the current happenings, calling it a 'time of Gates' and claiming Mehrunes Dagon would 'crack the serpent crown of the Cyrodiils and make federation'. And yet there didn't seem to be any hints about where a Shrine might be.

Volume Two contained a so-called 'Ritual of Want' that, while the three speculated might be important somehow, none of them wanted to execute for it required the sacrifice of a member of Dibella's clergy. Tar-Meena said she had seen similar incantations written in other Daedric ritual books, retrieving a few examples. By her speculation it was some kind of proving rite anyway, a test of dark resolve, and not connected to the location of the Shrine itself. It, like the rest of the text, didn't so much as hint at a place.

After a couple of hours, they seemed to be running out of steam. No one spoke, just passed the books back and forth and read the same passages over and over, taking no new notes. Baurus got up and said he was going to the Imperial Aviary to check for word from the Temple, mostly as an excuse to get some fresh air and try to clear his mind. Tar-Meena let herself out for a few minutes as well, promising to come back with some food. This left the Breton all alone, afraid to leave the dangerous books unguarded. She had to settle for a mere window to get her break by, vowing to herself she'd get a better respite later on.

Baurus came back with the first message since the one that had preceded Carolara's arrival. Jauffre didn't put any specific information in the note but made it clear that the Temple was being watched. There had not yet been an incident, but the Grandmaster requested that if available, one or both of them return to help solve the issue.

That was not something Carolara needed to hear while she was already under stress from the long study session. When the sorceress came back around with a tray of bread and fruit preserves, the Breton could barely make herself eat. Staying focused on the text was even more difficult. Finally she could bear it no longer and asked Baurus what he intended to do.

Rubbing his forehead, the Redguard laid down the book he had been reading. "Well, I'm betting this timing is of no coincidence. I'm going to stay until evening and hope we get this figured out before then, if not I'm afraid I'll be heading up north and you two will be on your own."

"So I'm to report up there once we've found the location?" Carolara questioned.

"No. I want you to proceed with the infiltration as immediately as you're able."

A thoughtful hum sounded out from the other side of the table and both Blades stared quizzically at Tar-Meena, who was tracing along a passage in one of the Volumes with her claw. Expectation mounted when she repeated the sound with a little more intrigue, flipping a few pages over, dragging another volume close and glancing at it. And then, "No, no no," and a sigh, and the hope of discovery once again left the room.

"So," the Breton went on. "Right on to the Shrine if we can find it. That's fair, we haven't got much time to waste I'd wager. Should I at least send a message along?"

"Too risky," Baurus replied, loading himself up another piece of bread with the sweet preserves. "You haven't been taught to write in code yet. Don't worry about it so much; believe it or not I have faith in your abilities."

Carolara smirked but said no more, propping her head up by her elbow and staring blankly down at Volume Two which sat open before her. It was comforting to know at least that the problem would be attended to. If he was going to believe in her, she'd believe in him too, and trust him to help their fellows keep Martin safe.

_Your coming was foretold, my brother, by the Lord Dagon in his book of razors. You are to come as Idols drop away from you one by one. You are exalted in eyes that have not yet set on you; you, swain to well-travelled to shatterer of mantles. You, brother, are to sit with me in Paradise and be released of all unknowns..._

Her smile faded as she returned to reading the strange, ranting passages of the Commentaries, the next hours ticking by as slowly as possible. Though literate she was never exactly a reading enthusiast and the way this was written made her head hurt. Full of allusions and riddles and metaphor, nothing just outright said. What the author was trying to convey was hidden enough, and trying to dig any deeper made her feel like a rat in an endless maze, long ago having lost scent of the goal.

She found herself staring at the initials a lot. Standing out from the rest of the black text, each paragraph started with a letter in crimson. For a while she had tried to see hidden images in the exquisitely detailed letter-work, but this had only strained her eyes. The 'Y' here was surrounded by vines, the 'A' above it seemed to contain a spearhead, a 'W' on the page before decorated with oak leaves. Though, read in order... 'W'... 'A'... 'Y'?

"Way?" Carolara said aloud, and both the Argonian and Redguard looked up at her curiously. It was the first thing anyone had said in quite a long time. Intrigued, she spun the book around and laid it before them, pointing to the letters and repeating, "Way."

Each snatched up the Volume they had been poking through and began to flip through the pages.

"Mid...day... sun..." Baurus muttered.

Tar-Meena took a fresh piece of parchment and inked her quill, eyes wide. "Of course, of course," she was saying to herself, opening Volume One in front of her and beginning to copy down the first letter of each paragraph. "Hidden on the surface, and not deep within. We thought we were trying to solve a riddle." Once she was through that they went onto the next, and so on until they had a complete message.

_GREEN EMPEROR / WAY WHERE / TOWER TOUCHES / MIDDAY SUN_

Carolara was snapped out of feeling pleased with herself when Baurus nearly shouted, garnering the ire of some poor mages just trying to study, "How long until midday?"

"About three hours..." a young Dunmer woman some yards away spoke up, frowning, "ago. Keep it down. I have an exam tomorrow."

"What's 'Green Emperor Way'?" the Breton questioned, careful to keep her voice low.

Tar-Meena replied, her voice a touch too excited though she kept her tone soft, "That refers to the circular gardens around the Imperial Palace. It's also a graveyard." She thought for a moment. "At midday when the sun is highest, it almost looks like it's sitting on the White-Gold Tower."

"Sounds like that would reveal our clue." Baurus let out a sigh and got up from his chair, stretching and peering out the window. "But we've missed it for today, and I'm needed at the Temple." He chuckled. "Looks like you didn't need my help after all. I can't wait around so I'm leaving the rest in your hands, Carolara."

The aforementioned followed suit, the sight of someone else stretching reminding her of her own aching limbs, a bit surprised at his suddenness. "You're going? Right away?"

"Yes. Best get out there before it gets dark. The room and board are paid for through the end of the week, though I hope you'll be off sooner than that." The Redguard spared her a smile. "I'll see you up at Cloud Ruler Temple."

Carolara nodded, still a bit stunned but understanding of the urgency. "Ah, good luck..." She struggled to think of something to say, "Greet Martin for me. Tell him he's missed and I hope he's well."

"I will," Baurus paused in shutting the door to say, "Good luck to you too."

And then he was out, and the Breton felt far more uncomfortable around the Argonian than she had before. She had nothing against Tar-Meena's kind; she just hadn't seen many of them growing up and found their scaly, toothy appearance jarring.

Gathering up the books into a neat pile and freeing the pages of old notes from within them, the sorceress asked after several silent moments, "Do you mind if I accompany you tomorrow to Green Emperor Way?" She smiled her strange lizard-like smile.

Carolara bit her own lip worriedly. "It could be dangerous."

A laugh. "My dear Breton, I didn't earn my place in the Arcane University just by sorting books. Besides, you can't fault me for being curious after I've come this far, and two pairs of eyes are better than one. The sun does not linger on top of the tower for long, the window to find our clue is small."

"Well," the Blade shrugged, reaching out for and wadding up the pages and pages of notes that turned out to be useless, "Baurus trusts you, and I don't know exactly what I'm looking for in the first place. So, I'd appreciate the help."

The books were heavy, especially all together, so Carolara just took the note with the hidden message on it and left the tomes with Tar-Meena so the sorceress could further sate her curiosities. She personally couldn't fathom what was so interesting about Daedric worship but the Argonian's knowledge had at least been handy. There were still a couple of hours of sunlight left so she decided to go for a little trip to the Market District.

First, however, she opened up the purse she'd taken from the cultist and counted out the amount of coins Martin had given her outside of Skingrad, added a few extra, and tied that up in his old purse to give him later. The Breton was just starting to feel a bit scared and alone; once she got that location she'd be going right into the heart of the enemy's network and hoping she could bluff long enough to get the Amulet. These thoughts combined with the autumn winds set her shivering lightly even beneath the thick leather. And yet the weight of that promised repayment in her hand felt warm, motivating; if she failed she'd never get to give that to him.


	17. The Ministry of Lost Souls

The forest around Cheydinhal was of the kind that Carolara loved most and yet she just couldn't bring herself to be happy about being in it. The trees were tall and thick and old, the vegetation lush both above and on the ground. Ferns grew everywhere one looked and it smelled wonderful but the Breton wore a frown, stopping every so often in the midst of digging a hole to look around. Every little noise triggered another careful scan of the surrounding woods for movement.

Getting there had been quite a pain in itself. The only way on and off the island in Lake Rumare that the Imperial City sat upon was a stone bridge that went straight west, when she needed to go east. Swimming was not an option with the steel-jawed Slaughterfish that roamed the deeper waters so she had no choice but to go all the way around. The option of a water-walking scroll or potion didn't even occur to her until she was on the road. Carriage services had been completely shut down and the Imperial soldiers on the outskirts were advising people to avoid any travel. There was no question as to why, particularly when Carolara spotted at least three Oblivion gates on her way out east. The roads belonged to the Daedra.

It took her quite some time between the interruptions and having to use her hands to dig but she finally managed a small depression in the ground, near the base of a tree identifiable by her arrow sticking out of its bark. In this she stashed her pack, her folded-up leathers, both coin purses, and her bow with its quiver. Carolara stood, making a conscious effort to not wipe the dirt on her linen dress, and began to gather up wide fronds to conceal her cache with while her nervous mind re-examined the findings of hours before...

_"Carolara! Come quickly!"_

_The Breton ran through Green Emperor Way at the best speed she could manage without tripping over a gravestone when she heard Tar-Meena's urgent call. She found the Argonian standing in front of one of the larger mausoleums, muttering in fascination, hands hard at work with her parchment and coal. Once she stood beside the sorceress it became clear._

_Emblazoned on the stone in red was a rising sun: the same one Carolara had seen on the copies of the Commentaries, the symbol of the Mythic Dawn. Below this was a strange shape, but as she stared she realized it was shaped like the province of Cyrodiil. And there, in the northeast part, was a star. The location of their Shrine. She peered over to check on Tar-Meena's work and found that the capable mage had already made a nearly perfect copy, and just in time too, for when she looked back the crimson map was gone, leaving no evidence it had even been there._

_"Do you have a map?" Tar-Meena inquired, and in response she was handed the Breton's worn and rather dirty one. She didn't seem to be bothered by it, just holding it up against her piece of parchment and looking between the two._

_"Right in the middle of the Heartlands," commented the Blade. "Not too far from Cheydinhal. I've been through there... lots of Dunmer."_

_The sorceress squinted at the map. "It looks like it's close to Lake Arrius," Then her eyes lit up. "There's a cavern system underneath there. That's probably where the Shrine is."_

Carolara had found the entrance to the caverns about an hour before, and while she hadn't gone inside, she scouted the surrounding area and found definitive signs that people had been coming and going. Tracks, trampled fronds, the cultists weren't very wood-wise, and the signs ranged from weathered to very recent. She wanted to be able to flee into the darkness if something went wrong so she settled down next to her hidden stash and had a dinner of fruit while the sun went down.

Soon nightfall came, and the Breton was out of excuses to stall. She had nothing to calm herself down with; no sedative herbs, no ale, and she had to force her hands to stop shaking by sitting still and breathing deep for a few minutes. Her only defense was the steel skinning knife hanging from the belt of her dress, but for now she would just play the curious initiate, wait for them to get comfortable with her presence, and snatch the Amulet. There would be no need to fight if she played this right. Recalling the sight of the hellish Gates that she'd spotted on her way motivated her, but more motivating still was the thought of getting to deliver Martin his birthright.

She started to conjure up a small light but found that wholly unnecessary once she entered the cave. There was already a brazier burning in here and a single red-robed figure stood next to a wooden door. He lifted his head to regard her and she froze, tense. It took a great summoning of willpower for Carolara to move again, clearing her throat and wincing at how terribly loud it seemed in the silence. As she approached the man said nothing, just stared from beneath his crimson hood, expectant.

Carolara nodded in greeting. "Dawn is breaking and I come to serve Lord Dagon."

The tall doorman's large frame shifted and moved, as he stood off the cave wall he had been leaning on and held the door open for her wordlessly.

Another deep breath and the Breton went inside, finding herself at the end of a long, well-lit corridor. It was empty; she could hear the sound of someone speaking and voices answering it, but the words were indecipherable and it seemed far away. From the side corridor emerged a Dunmer in a cult robe, his hood back and face visible as he smiled at her.

"Welcome, sister. The hour is late, but the Master still has need for willing hands." In his arms was another robe just like his and a pair of leather sandals. He held them out to her. "He's giving a sermon as we speak; we mustn't tarry."

She tilted her head, accepting the robes, "The Master is here? As in... Mankar Camoran, the Master?"

"Of course," he answered with a quizzical look, and after a time, "What are you waiting for?"

Carolara looked round and then back at him, puzzled. "Don't you have a place for me to change?"

"Among family one need not have shame," the Dunmer seemed amused with her concerns. "And we are all family here. I'll be taking your possessions too. You won't be needing them. As a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn, everything you need will be provided for you from the Master's bounty."

Internally, Carolara was far less than pleased, but as she handed over her dagger she said, "That sounds wonderful. I've never really belonged much of anywhere," and smiled. She turned away to disrobe; if she couldn't get any privacy for it she might as well pretend she wasn't being watched. Feeling very much like she would want a wash later, the Breton pulled the accursed robes over herself, slipped the sandals on, and followed the Dark Elf through the caves.

"The Master himself was cast out of society because they were too simple to understand his brilliance. We find many of those who are enlightened enough to find their way to us are similarly 'misfit'." The Dunmer was leading them closer and closer to the echoing voices. "We have been preparing for the coming of Lord Dagon for many years. You come to us at a fateful time. The Master has promised us that the Time of Preparation is almost over and the Time of Cleansing is almost here."

"Ah, how exciting," she said as cover as she contemplated the gravity of what he had just said. Did they intend to summon the Daedric Prince himself into Tamriel? Her stomach turned at the thought. Nothing would be able to stop them then.

They came to a door and the Dunmer gestured to her to be quiet. She nodded in acknowledgement and they went inside. This part of the cavern had a much higher ceiling to it, and blood-red banners that bore golden rising suns decorated the walls. An imposing statue of the four-armed Mehrunes Dagon stood in the center, depicted in the midst of swinging a massive weapon. It was tall enough to nearly touch the ceiling. The Elf led her down a few stone steps and into the middle of the chamber where the rest of the cultists were gathered. And standing before them on a raised stone altar was an Altmer in azure robes, hands in the air as he spoke with enthusiasm. The Master, Mankar Camoran.

"The Dragon Throne is empty, and we hold the Amulet of Kings!" he shouted. "Praise be to your Brothers and Sisters! Great shall be their reward in Paradise!"

"Praise be!" answered the assembled.

It was hard for Carolara to get a good look at him; he stood behind a podium and since she was a Breton she was around a head shorter than the majority of the other cultists. She stood on her toes but it did little good. She could see another Altmer up there, in the standard red robes, this one a woman with a staff on her back.

Mankar continued, "Hear now the words of Lord Dagon. 'When I walk the earth again, the Faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other Mortals forever. As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon.'"

"So sayeth Lord Dagon, praise be," the cultists chanted, Carolara joining them for the last bit. Meanwhile she was looking here, there, up and down for any sign of the Amulet. So far nothing.

At first she thought a brazier had flared up or something caught fire, but when the Altmer laid his hand on something on his podium a fiery portal opened up behind him. "The time of Cleansing draws nigh. I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!" And as he turned, she saw something glint in the light of the portal. Her eyes went wide and her hands tensed. It was the Amulet of Kings, dangling around the cult leader's neck. Before she could even react he touched the portal and was gone.

Carolara's heart dropped. She'd come all this way and bluffed her way into the heart of the cult, only to see the Amulet for a second before it was torn from her reach. Then she felt the Dunmer's hands on her shoulders and knew instinctively that things were about to get worse.

"We have a new Sister who wishes to bind herself to the service of Lord Dagon," he said in a raised tone, and immediately she felt many sets of eyes on her. The Blade tried to remember herself and not shrink away, putting her hood back on her shoulders and giving everyone a friendly smile, but she allowed her nervousness to work for her and just make her appear new and excited.

The woman on the altar spoke at last. "Advance, initiate."

One foot in front of the other. Stay calm. Breathe. The Breton approached and ascended the steps to stand in front of the whole assembly of cultists. From up here it was easier to see how many there really were; she estimated about fifty. Also now she could see what Camoran had used to make his portal; a tome, huge and worn and horrible-looking, lay open on the podium. The Mysterium Xarxes. Just as the references about it had said, filled with Daedric letters and strange symbols, complete nonsense to an untrained eye.

The Elf picked up a simple, but vicious-looking dagger with a black hilt, approached Carolara, and placed it in her hand. "You have come to dedicate yourself to Lord Dagon's service," she said, "And we welcome you, Sister."

"Thank you, Sister," was the nervous response, unsure of what else to say. The Altmer laid her hands on the Breton's shoulders and turned her to face the statue of Mehrunes Dagon, and only now could the Blade see the terrified Argonian bound to the stone slab in front of it. His eyes were half-lidded and he didn't struggle, just laid there looking disoriented, probably drugged. She felt as if she would be sick.

"This pact must be sealed with red-drink, the blood of Lord Dagon's enemies; the priests of the False Gods." The Elf gently urged Carolara toward him. "Offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as pledge of your own life's blood, which shall be his in the end."

Her hands began to shake again and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She contemplated the strange dagger, feeling every set of eyes in that room watching her and waiting for something she knew she wouldn't be able to do. She glanced at the helpless priest, then over her shoulder at the Xarxes. Could it be that the portal was inside the book?

"Lord Dagon thirsts for red-drink. Sate him." Clearly the Altmer was getting impatient. Carolara didn't have any more time to weigh her options. The Amulet had been taken out of reach and that book was the only thing she knew might get her to it. The Argonian seemed very heavily dosed; if she freed him it was doubtful that he could run with her, let alone fast enough, and she couldn't afford to be slowed down. Preemptively, she muttered an apology to him, trying to take some small comfort in the fact that the drug would at least ensure a painless death.

Hanging on to the dagger as her only weapon, Carolara turned about without warning and darted for the podium, snatching up the Mysterium Xarxes and darting back the way she had come in. They were chasing after her, she could hear their angered shouts but she daren't look back. She cursed the robes under her breath; the ones she'd been given were a touch too big for her and dragged the ground, forcing her to devote one hand to holding them up as she ran.

The small door helped to curb the number of cultists pursuing her, but she felt dread when she saw that she had to run down the long straight corridor she'd come in through. The Breton had no room to dodge the fireball that one of them threw her way, disintegrating the back of her robe and searing her flesh between the shoulder blades. She screamed in pain, but was too delirious from shock to hear herself. All she could do was focus on her legs, tell them to keep running. Blood trickled down her back and every movement of her arms caused the wound even more agony but there was no stopping, not yet.

The entrance was near. Carolara was closing in on it, throwing open the last door and shutting it swiftly behind her, when she realized she'd forgotten about the doorman. He startled when he saw her, but before he could ask her anything or react she kicked over the brazier next to him, spilling burning embers onto his robes, which caught alight immediately. He was too busy putting himself out to give chase as she ran out into the night, his fellows still hot on her heels.

Gasping for air and still clinging to the dagger and the Xarxes, she took a second to orient herself and adjusted her direction to run southeast, toward Cheydinhal. She could hear the cultists behind her stumbling and breaking branches but the sound started to fade after a couple of minutes. The burn on her back was still bleeding pretty badly so her head swam from the loss, and that was why she didn't see the drop.

It wasn't much further of a drop than a one-story building, but it was the way she fell that was so damning. Shaking and disoriented but desperate she pulled the fronds off several ferns and covered herself with them, wishing very much that she had her cloak, and laid perfectly still. Once the initial shock of the fall wore off the pain began to swell in her left leg, and the Breton began to suspect it was broken. Tears filled her eyes but she daren't make a sound.

Whether it was hours or minutes before the cult gave up looking, she didn't know, but once she was sure they had gone an attempt to stand confirmed her suspicions of broken bones. A sturdy fallen stick made a decent crutch for now. Carolara could see the lights of Cheydinhal nearby but she dared not take the highly dangerous Daedric artifact there; the danger to innocents was too great. No, healing and rest would have to wait until Cloud Ruler Temple... that is if she could get there in her condition. With the help of the stick she could hobble along, but there had to be a better way. Her gaze drifted to the stables just outside the city, and she got an idea.

Plucking an apple from a tree on the way, the Breton limped over and found the stable-hand fast asleep, propped up against the outside of the stable wall. Careful not to wake her, she slipped open the gate latch and held out the apple for the horses to see.

A black stallion that was still awake raised his head and trotted over, nickering. "Shhh," Carolara tried to keep him quiet, hobbling back just as the creature got close to the apple, urging it further. There was no saddle on the beast but that wasn't a big problem for her, it just meant it wouldn't be quite as comfortable of a ride, and comfort wasn't exactly priority right now. She was in enough agony that she couldn't see it getting much worse anyway, suppressing hisses and whimpers the whole way as she led the horse into the woods.

He let her climb haphazardly onto his back while he chewed his apple and from there she went back to her stash. Putting her leathers back on with her injuries just wasn't going to happen, even though her robes were heavily damaged and barely warded against the chilly night. At least the cold mountain air would feel good on her burn, she hoped. Not daring to get on the road, the Breton took her things, climbed back onto her stolen horse, and began the trek northwest through the thick forest with only the moonlight to guide her and her pain to keep her awake.


	18. A Change of Seasons

Carolara didn't recall much about arriving at the Temple. Someone had helped her off of the horse, she knew she had fallen once before it was realized that her leg was broken, and then someone put her over their shoulder. She remembered being carried inside and could distinctly recall the transition from the cold snowstorm to the firelit great hall. There were voices all around but no understanding them, her senses had all been a blur. She'd heard Martin's voice in that mix and tried to keep focused on it to stay conscious, it sounded like he was giving urgent instructions; and then her grasp on reality slipped away into nothing but blackness.

She woke at last on a soft mat with her head resting on a pillow, the fireplace in front of her, unable to tell if it was day or night. The Breton was lying on her stomach and it only took the slightest of movements to be painfully reminded of why. Carefully she started to lift her head, only to be told what she already knew, in a voice she smiled to hear.

"You might not want to move around yet," Martin spoke, somewhere out of her view. There was some shuffling around, she felt something against her wound that stung and made her hiss. "Sorry," he apologized, "I got the bleeding to stop but it's a nasty burn, and if I don't clean it now you'll get infected."

Another voice chimed in, this time it was Baurus. "What happened?" He stepped into her view and knelt down to talk with her face-to-face. "You were muttering on about the Amulet when you got here, but we couldn't find it on you."

Right on to the unpleasant business. Carolara averted her eyes, unable to look him in the face as she said, "I found the Shrine, I got in, but... I didn't manage to get it."

A silence pervaded the room for a time, so uncomfortable it was that she dared not break it to even apologize. But a nervous glance up to the Redguard showed her he was still awaiting an explanation, so she went on, gaze downcast. "The original Master is still alive. Mankar Camoran, he has the Amulet of Kings. But he went through a portal-"

"How can that be?" Baurus cut her off, "He wrote the Commentaries over four hundred years ago."

"Strange things are possible with Daedric magic," said the Septim heir, his tone a calm contrast, "What sort of portal?"

Carolara closed her eyes, partially out of pain, and partially to concentrate on the memory. "Fiery, horrid, sort of like one of those cursed Oblivion Gates but there was no frame on it. Before he stepped through he said 'I go now to Paradise' and that when he returned, it would be with Dagon himself."

Baurus got up, seemingly exasperated, and left the room saying, "I'm going to go report this to Jauffre. He's not going to like it."

When she let out an audible sigh, Martin scooted around so that he wasn't out of her sight, sitting on the bare floor and wiping blood and medicine from his hands. He was still going about in robes, it would seem, but these seemed a bit nicer than the trappings of a priest and yet not too royal yet; somewhere in between, like he was. A bit more confidence in the movements, a more regal carry, but still with quite some ways to go before the change was complete.

"Don't blame yourself," he assured once they were alone. "If nothing else, we at least know where it is now, and from the looks of it you're lucky to even be delivering this news."

"I just can't help feeling like I failed," was the Breton's reply, barely able to look him in the face. "Though," her eyes and spirits lit up a bit as the memory returned to her, "I did swipe something that I think might help. When Camoran touched it, the portal opened right up, but I don't really know how it works."

The Imperial regarded her quizzically, and she had a look around, difficult to do without raising up. And that was not an option, as she was clad in nothing from the waist up to permit access to her wound; turning bright red from the mere thought, particularly with present company, Carolara asked somewhat sheepishly, "My pack, wherever it is. There should be a book. They probably overlooked it since it's not the Amulet."

Martin got up and walked out of her view, and she could hear him sorting through her belongings for a quick moment... and then silence. Just at as she was wondering if it was worth the risk and agony to rise up and look there was the sound of footsteps, heavy and fast, and then her Emperor knelt beside her.

The tone of his voice startled her right away; Carolara had never heard him so lacking in composure. "You carried that thing, the Mysterium Xarxes... you _handled_ it?" When she just nodded in stunned silence he stood again and marched back out of her view, going on almost angrily, "By the Nine! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

She remembered Tar-Meena telling her that, of course... but it had been a decision made in desperation, it had been that or take an innocent life or come back with nothing, and with so many cultists in the room... no. The Breton stopped the racing in her mind. All excuses, nothing but excuses, unacceptable. She'd fumbled her first important solo mission as a Blade, failed at trying to be the first thing she'd ever really aspired to be. All she let out was a sigh, and a shamed "I'm sorry, Sir."

For a while neither said anything, but she could hear Martin's movement and the slight hum of magic. There were a few moments of nothing at all, and then he spoke again, voice calmed significantly. "No, I'm sorry. You were right to bring this to me. I know of some ways to protect myself from its evil power."

"Should we destroy it?" Carolara asked as the Imperial laid down the artifact and returned to her side. A whimper escaped her when he got back to work.

"You said that Mankar Camoran laid his hand on that tome and opened a portal," his voice was contemplative. "It makes me wonder if we can use it to follow him."

The Breton's hands tensed around the edges of her mat when the next wave of pain came. "Like I said, he said he was going to 'Paradise', so I think it leads there. In the books Baurus and I researched it mentions this place a lot, as a reward for his followers. He calls the realm his, talks like he created it, so I don't think it's the same place the Gates go." Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pile of linen being moved and smiled a bit with relief that all the stinging was coming to an end.

Martin leaned over to rinse his hands. "Maybe if I can decipher it I can figure out how to open the portal myself."

"You can do that?" She raised a brow.

"Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I'll have to proceed carefully."

There had been something a bit avoidant about his wording that just didn't sit right with Carolara and she turned her head to see him as best she could, inquiring, "Weren't you in the priesthood of Akatosh? I thought that sort of thing was," an uncomfortable pause while she searched for a word. "Just a touch... taboo."

Martin looked her in the eye a moment, the look in his eyes suggesting strong internal debate, before he shrugged to himself and stopped in his healer's work a moment. "I wasn't always a priest," the words seemed heavy in the air. "I used to practice much darker arts than healing and blessings. I'll spare you the details, but that phase of my life is long over."

Carolara wasn't sure what to say to a confession like that. She bit her lip and glanced over to the fire in thought. It didn't make her think any less of him; who was she, a former thief, to judge others for their crimes of the past? It was not that but the pain in his tone that bothered her; she felt compelled to help if it was within her power. Strange, she thought, that she was so suddenly concerned with his happiness. "Well... I suppose it worked out for the better, right? It means you'll be able to decipher the Xarxes, and we can corner Camoran in his own little rat-hole."

A dry laugh from the Septim. "When people came to me for advice and I didn't know what to tell them, I'd piously say, 'The Gods can turn anything to good'." The pompous imitation brought a smile even to his Blade's face, and he returned to folding and placing bandages on her burn. "I suppose I never believed that myself, not truly, not until now."

Carolara fell back asleep before he finished bandaging her up, still exhausted from her ordeal. It wasn't until early the next morning she got up and found Martin already hard at work, a table already covered with books in the Great Hall and another table pulled over to it, the Mysterium Xarxes open in front of him. Someone had moved her from her cozy spot in front of the fire to a spot off to the side, but at least she could see the room better. She was certain the fall in the woods had knocked bones out of their proper places but now they were set and splinted, and she was thankful that he'd done that part while she was unconscious.

Soon she found she couldn't stand the monotony of just lying around so in the early afternoon she was using the wall to pull herself up and get dressed. A fellow Breton and Blade named, amusingly enough to them both, Caroline, lent her a thick wool dress with a fur shawl to wear while she waited for her wounds to heal... and while they all waited for something to come of the Xarxes.

Over lunch Carolara sat down and gave Jauffre her full report, while the Blades eating nearby listened in. He didn't act as disappointed as he no doubt felt, but he did openly voice his worries about Martin working with the book, despite the Septim's reassurances that he would be alright. She couldn't help but agree but didn't really care to discuss it; she too was concerned even with what she'd been told in secret, but there was no defying the will of her Emperor. Instead she inquired after his message to the Imperial City that had called Baurus away.

Progress on identifying who was watching them had been slow, he confessed. Every lead the Redguard had been able to pick up in Bruma had led to nowhere, and the watchmen still swore they saw figures moving in the woods on some nights. So what were they to do, while she healed and Martin studied the Mysterium Xarxes? The old man shrugged at her.

"We wait," he said.

The copper-headed Breton had never been good at waiting, or anything requiring a lot of patience. But in her condition, what could she do? Well, her mind answered eventually, when one is bored one can always practice. And while walking was still difficult, she could stand without holding to anything. Standing was all one needed to do with one's legs in order to shoot.

The next day she felt even stronger, and with Roliand carrying a chair out for her, Carolara limped outside with her bow and quiver to do some target practice. She couldn't afford to get rusty in a time like this after all. There was far too much at stake; and it felt good to have her skills be needed. Actually, it felt good to be needed in general.

_Even a year ago if someone told me I'd be here today after nearly dying in service to the Empire, I would have thought they were crazy._ The Breton took a deep breath and adjusted her hand on her bow, raising it. _I didn't care about the Empire. Well, I thought it was alright, I had nothing against it except maybe being a bit uptight._ She slipped an arrow out of the quiver and nocked it, smoothly running her fingers down the fletching as she took aim._ I guess they are still kind of uptight, but no one deserves what's happening right now._

Twang- zip! A nearly perfect bull's-eye. Carolara smiled and leaned over to retrieve another arrow from the quiver propped on the chair, cursing the lack of a belt on her dress when she wobbled on her splinted leg painfully. Straightening up she rolled her shoulders and tugged the chair a little closer for better access.

Shooting had always been so centering for her. Nothing but her and the target and her bow and her thoughts. When she was puzzled about something, or needed to think up a strategy or figure out a problem, she would go shoot until she found clarity. And it nearly always worked. While she wasn't naive enough to think that a little target practice session would do anything to solve the doom looming towards them, there were other, more personal things it could potentially answer.

_Why do I feel like this? Do I feel like I have to prove something?_ The Breton slipped another arrow onto the bow. _Is it because I want to disprove everyone who said I was worthless?_ She shot, this one landing in the second ring from the center. Decent, but not up to her standard. Shaking her head she reached for another. _If not that is it because I feel like I owe them something for what happened in the sewers? Am I really willing to die to make up for that mistake?_ Her hand tensed involuntarily when a wave of pain washed over her body and the arrow went flying past the target and right off the side of the Temple.

Carolara snatched another piece of ammunition and strung this one up hastily, too hastily. _I've spent my entire adult life either drifting or in prison. And then fate itself comes walking into my cell. But that doesn't mean I 'have to', that I 'absolutely must'._ This one missed dreadfully too, and she cursed not at all softly. _These Blades are capable and I've done more than my share. Why did I sign up? I don't like fighting. The world in the Gates is frightening. The Mythic Dawn almost took my life. I used to look out for no one but me. And then Kvatch..._ She hesitated in the nocking of this arrow, trying to calm herself down.

_That's right... I told myself I didn't want to see another Kvatch._ This arrow just barely missed the target and a smile returned to Carolara's face, more relaxed as she reached for her next arrow. _Or at least, that was it. Well that's still it, but there's more to it now. These Blades... they're my friends. Much better than the sort that you make in the black market._ Another near-miss. _And I've actually gotten to meet the man who will be Emperor, and he'll make a great one. So I'll have faith the Empire cares about those who need it most._ She nodded at her own thoughts, allowing herself to speculate._ Emperor Martin Septim... a prosperous reign... and I will be one of his protectors._

A low laugh as Carolara prepared her bow again, picturing what her life might be like after the Crisis. _Perhaps I'll get to travel; see more of the Provinces, meet interesting people and eat interesting foods. Or perhaps I'll be stationed in the Palace itself as a bodyguard... I'd get to be in the Throne Room, maybe even handle that magnificent jeweled crown, be by Martin's side and talk to him every day..._

The arrow flew from her bow but she froze when it hit its target; the first perfect bull's-eye she had landed the entire session. But her hands shook too much to reload and she slowly lowered the bow. The Breton blinked, shook her head, rubbed her temples... everything in the logical part of her mind was in denial, but the other, whimsical half knew it to be true and there was no un-knowing it. _That explains it... oh no. No no no. _

_I've fallen in love with him._

Looking around almost as if her thoughts might be read she lifted up the quiver and eased painfully into the chair, dropping the thing in her lap and resting her head on her hands. It was the sort of thing one was supposed to be happy about, but she just could not view it that way. Not only was this a thing to realize at one of the worst possible times, it was something she could never, ever let anyone know. Not a soul, no matter how much she cared for or trusted them, would hear those words leave her lips. Even if she thought she was alone she wouldn't speak them.

And most importantly, Martin himself could never know. A Dragonborn Emperor should have no place for a little criminal; he was deserving of better, and noble blood should only be carried on by noble blood. What more would it do to tell him than serve as an emotional dead weight during a time of Crisis far more deserving of their attention?

Yes, there was far too much to worry about right now- and even though she couldn't reverse the sudden revelation, Carolara could at least swear on all Nine Divines that she would keep her petty wants to herself and channel the energy of that unwitting affection into a force to be reckoned with.

As the Breton pulled herself shakily back to a stand, she felt her second wind kicking in and smiled. She could stand some more practice yet... her Empire needed her in top form for the coming storm.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED! in**_** "Fighting for a Brighter Dawn", Coming soon!**

_"I appreciate every single one of you that's taken the time to read this far, and hope you have enjoyed the ride. There's more to come, TWO parts in fact, so keep an eye out for more of Carolara's saga in the aforementioned "Fighting for a Brighter Dawn" which will be released very, very soon. I love my readers!" -Svetlaena_


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